Ambar Ar-Adûnaim (the fate of the King's Men)
by Miko 56
Summary: When Aegon IV legitimize his bastards it created a shockwave across Westeros, Daeron and Daemon are now feeling its effects, across the east however black ships were seen. The Ar-Adûnaim are now in this world to remake it for their own.
1. Ar-Gimilthôn I

_**190 after Aegon's Conquest**_

Storm clouds were brewing over Westeros as Daeron II Targaryen struggles in keeping the Seven Kingdoms together while his brother Daemon Blackfyre began to fan the flames of rebellion the result of Aegon the Unworthy's spiteful decision of legitimizing his bastards, it was at this time that ships from the south of Essos began to arrive, these people have been well known at Slaver's bay landing and then liberating the slaves from their harsh masters before moving towards Volantis where despite failing to sack the city they effectively raided and pillage its countryside. To the people at Slaver's bay they were called the Enigmatic and Dark Golden Ones, to the Volantenes the Fair, Tall, and Dark Corsairs from Sothoryos, although these people had said that they do not come from the dark continent, however these people are known by a different name which shall be known across the world, the name that they call themselves these people are the Ar-Adûnâim.

The Ar-Adûnâim or the Adûnâim, the first word roughly meant King's Men and the other Western Men, although these people call themselves as Numenoreans collectively they claimed to be from an isle called Numenor which their name comes from and because of pride the isle was sunk to the bottom of the sea, and the only people left were the ones from their colonies in which the Ar-Adûnâim came from and decided to leave for some greater purpose as is stated by their leader Ar-Gimilkhâd through his children. They arrived in the Crownlands after their exploits in Slaver's bay and Volantis where Ar-Gimilkhâd lost his life alongside his eldest son and therefore his youngest son Ar-Gimilthôn led their peoples across the Narrow sea to Westeros where their Black sailed ships were seen with awe and fear.

Lady Myriah Nymeros Martell gives a quite detailed description of these people, and base on those descriptions of what she saw, the Ar-Adûnâim are somewhat otherworldly and supernatural in her eyes;

_'They (the Numenoreans) were to put it briefly were so tall in stature that they overtopped us by two cubits, narrow in the waist and loins were they with broad shoulders and a deep chest and powerful arms, their build was neither too slender nor too overweight in the flesh but perfect as if one of those statues in the Sept concerning the Warrior, despite being pale like the Stony Dornishmen in the north of Dorne, they are a little tan probably because of their exposure to the salt, the sun, and the sea, although one can mistake them as Northerners for they had long faces that reminded us of wolves and grey dark eyes that seem to pierce us if we stare long enough to them and reminded us of the moon high in the darkest of the nights, handsome and beautiful all of them are albeit there is something dark lingering in that handsomeness. All of them were always armed with swords if it were not available, a dagger that was safely kept behind their pants, their clothing were either simply black and gold with red lining it, even their armor had that gold yet blackened hue like that of burnt wood, like their ships. All of them especially the family of Ar-Gimilthôn moved with a grace that is otherworldly like they expect everyone to bow before them either by a word or just by his thoughts'_

Ar-Gimilthôn was followed by two old wisemen wearing blue the two seemingly arguing with the man in their tongue, as the chroniclers said, before meeting the then King of the Seven Kingdoms, Daeron II Targaryen who offered them salt and bread, a custom that was met with strange hesitancy from Ar-Gimilthôn who looks at King Daeron then at his two advisers;

_'Speaking in his tongue, Ar-Gimilthôn asked the King through his advisers what is the meaning of such offering of salt and bread, when it was then explained he decided to partake in it although with great hesitation after the solemnizing act that granted guest rights, Daeron asks why their people arrived in Westeros there Ar-Gimilthôn said that he was looking for new lands so his people may thrive, they had sailed from Slaver's bay had harried its masters and liberated its slaves but knew that all of them cannot thrive there, they went to Volantis and had tried to talk with its leaders but the fear of the Volantenes of hearing their exploits caused them to try and attack and enslave them which resulted in the death of Ar-Gimilthôn's father, Ar-Gimilkhâd struck down by a Volantene spear when scaling the walls while his brother, Gimilzôr, died trying to retrieve their father's body_ _ it was quite an epic tale one that can be told by a minstrel. Clearly __Ar-Gimilthôn is a man that was thrust in the leadership of their people'_

It was quite a tale as Daeron himself gave condolences to the misery that the Ar-Adûnâim experienced and had thus decided to grant the Numenoreans refuge in the Crownlands until they are ready to once more seek land in which they can land and settle, but he also said that if Ar-Gimilthôn would be willing to bend the knee and swear allegiance and fealty to the Iron Throne then maybe he might grant them lands to which they could settle.

_"It is not in the nature of the older brother to kneel to his younger brother, we are the eldest of all men, of the ancient line of Elros Tar-Minyatur when Numenor began, of Ar-Pharazôn when Numenor sank because of Sauron the betrayer, and of Berúthiel who succeeded in uniting the blood of __Pharazôn and Elendil, __we of the Blood of Numenor will not kneel to you even if we had to live on our ships or to starve because you denied us harbor" _before swords of the King's guard could be drawn because of those words Daeron called for them to halt and calm as he knew that it was a pride of a king leading his people that made Ar-Gimilthôn utter those words _"a man would rather die than lose the crown his people made him wear" _Daeron said as he bows to Ar-Gimilthôn in respect as one monarch to another, the Numenoreans were granted respite in the ports of King's Landing where it was said that they were quite the great tradesmen and craftsworkers, some of them can create great works of steel, gold, and ivory and some can outbarter a jeweller to trade his necklace of silver and emerald for a sack of fishes that even to this day King's Landing, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms still felt its effects as a Numenorean quarter was built on the ports nearby and some of them had left children on women before sailing away.

* * *

_**196 after Aegon's Conquest**_

Alatar watched as the flames began to fly on the shores of the Crownlands, _it has begun_, he grimly thought as the screams of women and children were heard. They had always felt the upheaval on these shores since landing with Ar-Gimilthôn, banners of black three-headed dragons and red three-headed dragons flying side by side now clashing and tattering whichever side Eru gave favor to, _but Eru and the Valar will never give favor to a family that wed so close to their bloodline_.

They were now sailing away from Westeros to the north of Essos where a city called Braavos rests. A representative from the Iron Bank at the court of King Daeron II had approached them and made a proposal concerning their predicament, having heard of their tale at Slaver's bay and at Volantis they seem to have made an impression to the Braavosi as the representative said to present their case to their bank and also to the Sealord who would surely consider their plight, _we are landless and on lands that seems to be beyond the touch of Eru and the Valar_.

"A grim sight to behold brother" Pallando said as he stood beside him and watched, "we should have said to Ar-Gimilthôn to take this as an opportunity for us and his people" he said as the smoke from a fire began to go farther.

"I doubt his grace would look at it as an opportunity if anything he would say that they the red dragons deserved it for allowing their illegitimate kin to grow and prosper" Alatar remembers when Daemon Blackfyre took aside them and Ar-Gimilthôn in a private manse, proposing that he can give them land with which they could rule independently if they would help him usurp his brother's throne, _and what a sight it was to see_, Gimilthôn the son of Gimilkhâd grew wroth as he glares at the man.

_"You would have me plot and scheme on the shelter of the man who gave me succor and reprieve, to provide downfall to your kin just so you can usurp his crown and home? You can keep your proposal and choke on it!" _Pride and honor was the only thing that is left of the Ar-Adûnâim, they have no home and land but still their word was their worth, _which is all the currency there is that made them preferable_, Alatar thought as he remembers the days they had to lead some of their followers to the southern old Numenorean ports where Ar-Gimilkhâd and his family and their followers prepare for a great expedition to reconquer the south of Middle Earth and reclaim the throne of Gondor for the true Numenorean heirs which is them by the virtue of the line of Tarannon Falastur and Berúthiel.

_Who would have thought that they of the line of __Berúthiel loathed Sauron more than the Faithful and the Valar_, Alatar mused as Ar-Gimilkhâd granted them refuge and place in their ships in exchange for their service in the wars against the servants of the Enemy and also in their quest to take the throne of Gondor in the near future, as much as Ar-Gimilkhâd always voiced his distaste for them as servants of the Valar it was his son, Gimilthôn who proved to be quite open for them, although his beliefs are more on the fact that it will be Eru who will judge him and not Manwë or the other Valar, only Eru himself alone. "Istari! Istari!" came a voice of a boy, Phazân-Palantir, Gimilthôn's son and heir, a bright and promising young boy born of the union of Ar-Gimilthôn and a Tyroshi who was enslaved and brought to Volantis before she was rescued by Gimilthôn and both fell in love and married despite the disagreement of the other Ar-Adûnâim.

"What is it young Phazân?" Alatar asks as the boy smiles then pulls him towards the part of the Palantrist where some of their Variag followers were practicing archery, he points at one of the targets where an arrow was embedded at the center, Pallando looks at it impressed at the boy while even Alatar couldn't help but be of the same reaction also "that is impressive Phazân" he said as the boy grins widely.

"I hit the bullseye Istari! Just as my father did so when he was still a youth, now do you think I can become a ranger to protect our line?" the boy beams as the two Istari both chuckled inside their thoughts, _the boy is too innocent and naive to the ways of the world_, Alatar thought as he decided to agree with the Phazân.

"Of course young Phazân, you are truly a worthy ranger that can protect the line of Berúthiel" he said as the boy began to accept one of the crewmen's bows and then continue practicing his archery at the watch of the two Istari.

"Istari!" came the commanding voice of the boy's father, Ar-Gimilthôn, clad in the golden plate of old Numenor approaching them with a certain weight and purpose that none of them saw to the Westerosi king and his lords.

"Your grace" Alatar and Pallando slightly bowed to the king of the Ar-Adûnâim, and the rightful successor of Numenor.

"What do you think of the proposal the coin-counters from that city called Braavos put to our table?" Ar-Gimilthôn asks his accent thick at the mention of the name of the city of Braavos, as much as Ar-Gimilthôn didn't like it being blown by the whims of what he could consider as his lessers he still understands the need for negotiations and compromise.

"As much as what the representative told us your grace" Alatar responds as he and Pallando continues to watch the young Phazân-Palantir who shot arrows at the range and judging from the strain he was having it seems the Variags had decided to give him a heavier bow and the boy's struggle in drawing it seem to amuse them albeit respectfully, his father was also looking at him with amusement as well, "we could only assess the whole affair once we are there in Braavos and had talk with their bank and their Sealord" he continues and Ar-Gimilthôn could only nod at that.

"I just hope our travels are at an end, Lyssandra is pregnant again ever since she had given birth to Palantir she was weaken and near death" the king of the Ar-Adûnâim said, "she wanted a sibling for Palantir in memory of her siblings that she lost when she was enslaved" Ar-Gimilthôn sadly looks at Palantir while Pallando decided to tell the king of his diagnosis of the man's wife.

"Your son will have siblings your grace, your wife bears twins" Pallando said as Ar-Gimilthôn's eyes went up at the news.

"Truly?" he asked, voice filled with worry.

"I may not be a good person in authority concerning pregnancies your grace, but I had felt the queen's pulse and instead of two beating hearts, which is hers and the babe it is three beating hearts" Pallando said as for a moment Ar-Gimilthôn's knees buckled, murmuring how impossible it was as before the king of the Ar-Adûnâim could properly respond, the helmsman of their ship, Azrubên approached them with a far eye on his hand.

"My king three ships port and stern side, they bear Blackfyre sails" Azrubên said as he handed the far eye to Ar-Gimilthôn who quickly rushed to the port side of the Palantrist.

"What do these people want now?" Gimilthôn grunts as he decides to call on his men to hail the ship with blasts of trumpets there was also a return hail from the Blackfyre ships but these hail was done through the use of drums, _a sound of an attacking ship_. When one of the Blackfyre ships was already close in shouting distance its helmsman began to shout at them.

"By order of the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, Daemon Blackfyre, we demand that you stop this ship and give us everything you have for use of a noble purpose to secure the Iron Throne from the pretender Daeron Targaryen!" _privateers how quaint_, Alatar thought as he looks at Ar-Gimilthôn who grew angry and wroth at the demands made by these Middlemen.

"We are not subjects of the Iron Throne go back to your master empty but alive or face Adûnâim steel and die!" Ar-Gimilthôn warns as everyone on their ship began to ready themselves while a signal from the Gaervinas-class ships surrounding them were sent to pursue battle formations should things get hostile. A Gaervinas-class ship went beside them, marines already at the upper deck with sword and shield and bows at the ready.

The king of the Ar-Adûnâim had his sword and shield at the ready "Istari, should anything happens I want you to make sure that no harm would come to my son" he said as the two Blue Wizards looked at each then at Ar-Gimilthôn nodding in confirmation.

"Subject or not, you do not have any say as we need your valuables for a noble purpose my lord!" came the reply of the helmsman as the crewmen of the Blackfyre ship began to point their bows and crossbows in the direction of the Palantrist.

"Then these talks are over then!" Ar-Gimilthôn shouts as he and some of the crew began to raise their shields and their bows began to fire a hail of arrows before the opposite ship could respond in kind "prepare the corvi!" Gimilthôn shouts as ballistas began to fire corvi on the enemy ship, the device itself doing damage while also preparing the Ar-Adûnâim for boarding the ship opposite them.

"Rally to the king!" came the cry of Pallando as Ar-Gimilthôn and his men let loose a great battle cry before charging the enemy vessel.

"Balakada! Azgarâda! Aznêgan!"

"Hold firm! Stand firm! For Daemon Blackfyre!"

For all the bravado of these privateers in service of the Blackfyres they were no match for the ferocity of the Adûnâim who quickly overwhelmed them, Alatar kept himself behind guarding the young Phazân should the Blackfyre try a counter-board, the third Blackfyre ship had tried to skirmish them but they were quickly met by a nimble Rochros-class ship who forced it further towards the Palantrist "stay close to me young Phazân" Alatar reminds the boy as the second Blackfyre ship decided to board the Palantrist while her crews are busy with the first one "protect the Phazân!" Alatar calls out as a crew of ten began to surround them, a battle cry came from the Blackfyre privateers as they quickly came to their direction.

"Aznêgan!" came the cry from their ranks as they quickly disposed of the Blackfyre boarders throwing some of the men overboard while killing the others, "Börte!" Palantir calls out as he tries to run from Alatar's position, a Variag girl was being pulled by one of the privateers as the chaos of the battle raged.

"Palantir!" came the cry of the Variag girl named Börte and base on the way the little girl calls out the Phazân's name she is a dear friend of him "help me!" she calls out as Phazân-Palantir drew a dagger and tried to rush towards the direction of Börte who is being dragged by the privateer, Alatar quickly stopped the boy before he could do anything foolish, drawing his scimitar and preparing his staff, one of the Blue Istari quickly danced from the upper deck of the Palantrist slashing his scimitar to whichever enemy flesh it meets before finally stopping at the privateer holding Börte.

"Release the girl now!" he cries out as the privateer did so but before the man could react Alatar threw the man overboard with the strength that is not expected of an old man, "come now little one" Alatar said with an outstretched hand to Börte who quickly took it and both of them went to the side of Palantir. The battle had finally ended when they had captured the third Blackfyre ship and its crew had surrendered. Ar-Gimilthôn approaches Alatar and Palantir, his sword bloodied with some specks of blood on his mail coif which he removes revealing his face.

"Son..." Gimilthôn dropped his sword on the ground and opened his arms and the young Phazân quickly rushed to his father enveloping him with an embrace, "we have won Palantir..." the king of the Ar-Adûnâim said as he pushes the boy away, "have you been brave my boy?" Palantir nods at the question as Gimilthôn ruffled his hair proudly smiling at the brave boy.

"I tried to save Börte but the Istari beat me to it!" Palantir said as Gimilthôn looks at Alatar who shrugs.

"I expected much from you brother, you stole a young boy's thunder!" Pallando quips earning a laugh from everyone on the ship at the other Istari's words.

Alatar surely look or pretended to be offended at that "his grace told me to look after his son, and I wouldn't let a young boy come to harm" he said pretending to be offended although there was amusement on his eyes.

"Well at least the boy tried to be a hero, if you didn't beat hm to it Istari" Ar-Gimilthôn said as everyone laughs once more and he raises a hand to make the men quiet, "take what you can from their ships then burn them" he declares as everyone cries their assent as they began to systematically loot Blackfyre ships, scrapping some of the masts as lumber before burning the whole ships to the ground, "it seems we had to sail back on Westerosi shores Istari, Braavos would have to wait once more" the king of the Ar-Adûnâim said as they sail away from the burning ships, leaving the third one's crew on small rowboats.

"It seems we had to your grace" Alatar said, _there will be a reckoning to be had after all for Daemon Blackfyre_.

* * *

**On the way to the Redgrass fields**

Daemon Blackfyre received a message from his spies in King's Landing the Ar-Adûnâim fleet returned to Westeros once more and had allied themselves to his half-brother, Daeron II Targaryen, the reason being an attempted waylay of their ship by privateers in the service of House Blackfyre, _we had just lost whatever advantage we had on the seas with the Ar-Adûnâim allied to my half-brother_, Daemon thought as he quickly tore the paper and let it scatter on the wind. He didn't plan on trying to ambush and rob the sailing Adûnâim fleet, he had expressed it on all of the Houses that are aligned to him and are sea-bound to not attack any foreign vessel sailing away Westeros, now one hundred Adûnâim ships are pointing at him like a dagger to his heart.

_What's done is done, I suppose_, Daemon grimly thought as the large but lean and armored figure of his other half-brother, Aegor the Bittersteel, "is there something wrong brother that you would look this grim?" he asks as Daemon looks at him and then nods.

"Our privateers tried to waylay the Adûnâim fleet as they were sailing away from Westeros now their king, Ar-Gimilthôn had allied himself to Daeron" Aegor grunts at that, "the fools that I commit to sea had made a blunder, instead of reeling fish, they reeled sharks" it was a poor attempt to a jape but still it resulted from Aegor having to give him a harshest laugh, _Aegor would be a good Hand if only he didn't approach anything as a battle or as a training ground_.

"If it comforts you, your grace the Adûnâim fleet is at the sea, surely they will not fight us here on land" _that is where you are wrong dear brother_, Daemon thought as he remembers the parade of the Adûnâim when they arrived on King's Landing, every Numenorean soldier stand at attention when Ar-Gimilthôn arrived and followed him when they marched to the Red Keep that reminded Daemon of the famous Ghiscari lockstep legions that he had heard and read so much as a child, _precise discipline and rhythm of their feet as they march, if only Daeron had bothered in making it so to his own armies_, he saw it also in the eyes of his half-brother and once king, the awe, fear, and admiration of the Adûnâim, Daemon had once tried to get them to ally with them _but they seem to have a rigid sense of honor like those of the Northmen_.

They were met by the scouts that Aegor and Daemon's eldest son Aegon had sent "we saw them Adûnâim banners with the Targaryen ones your grace" _what? _The scout points towards the enemy camp and beside the Targaryen banners was the banner of the Adûnâim, a red rune surrounded by seven golden stars on a black field, "they have been preparing for battle, before you arrived your grace, and base on the way they assemble their camp this is not their main one as there are only three hundred of them" the scout finishes his report as Daemon nods to the man.

"Good work soldiers" he said dismissing the scouts before turning to his half-brother, Aegor "we make camp here and send an emissary to the Numenoreans, if they refuse to back out of their support to my half-brother then we will know whether their steel is a match to ours" he declares as everyone went about and made themselves busy in making a camp to settle in before the big battle while also an envoy was dispatched to the Adûnâim in an attempt to either change there side or to at least get them to not even participate in the upcoming battle, but of course his attempts were refused by the Adûnâim, stating that the offense they had done to them are sufficient cause for siding the other side of the kin-strife they find themselves in.

The morning came and Daemon saw that the Adûnâim positioned themselves at a ridge nearby "they must have taken it during the night, disassembled their camp as quickly as they can and then make for the ridge" Aegor deduces as he began to see the silver of the Numenorean steelbows, from the reports of the scouts there were truly three hundred of the Numenoreans positioned at the ridge, but Daemon knew any better, as the high vantage and the anti-cavalry spikes and caltrops positioned in front of them would put them safely from their charge as they unleash a volley of arrows from their position, also the Adûnâim positioned at the ridge looked elite as all of them wore heavily plate armored with their tall winged helms covering their heads, and mail coifs covering their faces, black and gold square shields were slung behind them alongside a quiver while a longsword was strapped on their side.

"We charge over there father and we would die or lose before we even reach King's Landing" Aegon states and even some of their men would agree with him, _but if we don't fight here now, we lose a decisive battle against Daeron_, Daemon thought as a bark of laughter came from Aegor.

"Your son here might as well be breathing spit instead of fire" _loyal, loyal _Aegor said as he drew his sword and then points it at the enemy in front of them, "the enemy over there are cowards being armed only with bows, I say we go there and drive them back to their ships while killing some of them and then march to King's Landing" the knights with Aegor cheered in agreement with him at that while Daemon felt that there is something wrong as there are only three hundred of the Adûnâim troops, _there are only three hundred of them here, they must be the van of Daeron's army but still this felt wrong_.

Before Daemon could give an order, an arrow flew from the side of the Adûnâim and struck Aegor on a slit of his armor in his side "Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" came the battle cry of the Ar-Adûnâim as arrows began to darken the sky.

Daemon raised his shield and then drew Blackfyre "reform to me and lets ride them all down!" he cries out as his cavalry began to hastily assemble creating a line despite the shower of arrows, with a great bellow of horns and trumpets the Blackfyre cavalry began their desperate ride towards the ridge, horses fall and men cry out followed by the sounds of broken bones, Daemon saw his son, bright-eyed Aegon Blackfyre falling to the ground felled by Adûnâim arrows, _no! _Daemon thought as an arrow pierced his horse head instantly killing it and forcing Daemon to fall from his horse, a spike piercing a slit of his armor on the side, the flower of Westerosi knighthood were slain on the field making the grass red with their blood, "my boy!" he calls out but he knows it was all for naught as he began to crawl away from his position towards the direction of his son.

A knight in his service tries to approach him but was when another volley was launched "Your grace! Aghh!" the knight was still alive although he was hit in the neck by an arrow, the man pulls Daemon Blackfyre from the ground but before he could tell him anything an arrow hit the man's head killing him swiftly, "the red dragons are behind us!" Daemon heard a cry as he could see that the whole battle had turned into a massacre as he began to see that the Adûnâim had began to stop firing their arrows, and then charge towards them with swords and shield in their hands.

"Retreat the battle is lost! The gods old and new have forsaken us!" came the shouts of routing as every officers of their army tried to instill discipline but Daemon knew that all hope is lost, _but I will not leave my son's body behind for the carrion to feed into_, Daemon tried to reach his son's body but was stopped when he saw the Adûnâim closing in to the bloody, red field.

"Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" came their cry as their lines clash on the scattered Blackfyre army that is now surrounded and struggling to break away at their encirclement, Daemon was met by a shield charge from an Adûnâim armsman, and he struggles to parry the tall man's blows, the Adûnâim is strong in the way he effortlessly blocks and parried his attack and dare Daemon could say that the man looked bored with a final yell Daemon tried to make a desperate swing at the Adûnâim who just strike his neck with his sword pommel forcing him to drop on the ground, _I will not die here! _He thought as the man loomed over him with his foot planted on Daemon's chest and his sword to his neck, he waited for death but it did not come to him.

* * *

**After the Battle**

Brynden was impressed with the way the Ar-Adûnâim fought, bow, spear, sword, and lance all of them seem to be proficient or was a master of those weapons upon seeing them in battle. He had led an archer contingent on the left flank of the field and at the safety of the Numenorean spears shot any enemy stragglers that tried to break through the envelopment that the Ar-Adûnâim introduced, _despite the fact that some of us view the tactics as dishonorable and disgraceful_, Brynden thought as he began to hear cheers among the Numenorean ranks as well as their own.

At the front of the parade was Ar-Gimilthôn, the king of the Ar-Adûnâim wearing golden and black armor giving an appearance of splendor and power _for a people that are on the move, they are impressive_, Brynden observes as he himself felt admiration and respect to the Numenoreans that are arriving to the camp, their elite forces had been essential to this battle, their mighty and impressive steelbows pierce heavy plate and they seem to be good shots to from what Brynden had heard of them through the troops that are with the Adûnâim armsmen during the battle.

"We have captured Daemon Blackfyre!" one of his men shouts as they saw the column riding further to their camp with Daemon Blackfyre being forced to march on foot behind, bound and disgraced, at the head of the arriving column was their king, Ar-Gimilthôn who stood imperiously on a horse followed by his two old wizened advisers wearing blue, Brynden saw him dismount and was handed the ropes of Daemon Blackfyre and then the king of the Ar-Adûnâim dragged him towards the king of Westeros.

Daeron II Targaryen himself was outside of the tent, the king would have fought himself but his advisers thought that the battle was heavily in favor of the Blackfyres as majority of their forces hadn't arrived at the field as the Stormlands and the Reach fought against their own bannermen that decided to support the Blackfyres, _if it wasn't for the Ar-Adûnâim forces then the Iron Throne would have to see a Blackfyre sitting on it_, Brynden thought as Daeron II Targaryen was presented Daemon Blackfyre who looks at him with pure hate.

"What have I done to you brother? Bastard-born you may be but I treated you fairly, we both break bread and shared wine, I have a mind to appoint you as my Hand, did I do anything wrong?" Daeron asks as Daemon looks at him.

"Spare me your false courtesies dear _brother_" Daemon sneers which earned him jeers from the whole camp, "you know what you had done to me and to our sister, _for the good of the realm _so you say, Daenerys is mine and should be mine as you promised as well as how she feels" Daemon declare while his captor had a disgusted look in him as he heard of those words, _the Adûnâim probably frown upon marrying close to their bloodlines_, Brynden thought as his mind then drifted to Shiera, _his seastar_.

"It is as I had said so, we had been at war with Dorne long enough the marriage that I secured would ensure of it and would bring Dorne slowly to the Kingdoms" a snort came from Daemon Blackfyre as he shakes himself and the King's guard surrounding Daeron began to go on alert as their king raise his hand to stop them, "halt! I will not be a kinslayer or a forsworn!" he shouts as Blackfyre gives a harsh laugh that comes as a cough.

"You had already been a forsworn _brother_!" he snarls as he began to stand tall, "I will not be tried and executed like a common criminal! So I shall let the gods decide my fate, I declare a trial by combat!" at Daemon's declaration the whole camp, except for the Numenoreans, rose in uproar as Daeron was surprised while Daemon was taking in the reaction with a smile on his face.

_He knows that Daeron would have to assent or lose face in front of the people_, Brynden thought as he felt the rain began to pour and everyone looks at Daeron waiting for his response "I accept your declaration for a trial by combat, but such a thing would have to be done tomorrow, either you can choose yourself or some other person to be your champion" the last words were of course just formalities but it seems to Brynden that Daeron had expected it from Daemon, "I will send a maester to your tent, to tend to your wounds dear _brother_" he sadly said as he went back to his tent followed by his King's guard, while Ar-Gimilthôn handed over Daemon to a man-at-arms before going towards his horse.

* * *

**Author's note: new story and you could blame me playing Third Age total war: Divide and Conquer mod for M2TW, also this was inspired by TV series and historical events and also the House of Elendil and all of my old fics concerning tribal migrations (ie. House Hellenese and If I have a heart) which I had to delete because I don't know what to do with them but these story here is actually the synthesis of all those trial and error so yeah, I plan for this to be my magnum opus.**

**So yeah the fic is about the Ar-Adûnâim faction of DaC, as much as they are not canon in the books and the movies since their faction only existed as a political one in old Numenor as they were the followers of Pharazon before he went to Valinor under Sauron's influence and got smite by Eru, in the DaC mod however they are quite the most neutral of all factions and are quite smooth in their backstory for me as I can be both the good and the bad without any impunity in how they would be viewed by the other factions that are completely good or completely evil, make my own story so to speak, and yes this was also the result of my repeated fascination of Numenor and its inhabitants, to its rise and fall so yeah expect that as much as you would like to view the ****Ar-Adûnâim faction as evil, here on this fic they will do a lot of both good and evil in future chapters also they are not just the only people from Middle-Earth that came to Planetos as the two Istari came to them with their followers from the Variags (no spoilers though!).**

**Concerning their armor description, I kind of used the art from the Last Alliance DaC submod the Ziggurun order with some adjustments, particularly the mail coifs that goes on their noses, while their shields were those from Rhunnic square shields in the movies since it kind of gives them the identity that these guys might be Numenoreans but they have their own unique culture upon living far south and east of Middle Earth.**

**So yeah this is my new fic and I hope you will enjoy it!**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


	2. Ar-Gimilthôn II

_**On the Targaryen Camp**_

Before the fated trial by combat King Daeron II Targaryen called for his men to assemble at the front of his tent, with him is Palantir's father, Ar-Gimilthôn, who the boy can't help but envy his father as the man stood tall and proud as the king of Westeros addresses his people concerning the victory they had won in the field "if not for the assistance of our friends from the seas, then we would see Westeros on the brink of chaos where fathers fight against their sons, and brothers fight against brothers what promises Blackfyre could give are all but falsehoods as he only wants the Iron Throne and not responsibilities that come with it" Daeron said as everyone cheers and he holds up a hand to stop them.

"As the Adûnâim had make haste to come to our aid, it is only fitting that as they leave once more to the seas that we give them a proper farewell" Palantir saw servants carrying a medium box, clinking as they move dropping it before the feet of his father, Ar-Gimilthôn, as Daeron tried to put a hand on his shoulder but cannot because of the height difference "in the service you have done for the Iron Throne and House Targaryen we give you this boon, a part of our treasury, and our oath of friendship and grace, a fitting reward to such acts" the Westerosi cheered as Daeron smiles to Ar-Gimilthôn who returns it with a smile of his own.

The men at the camp once more went silent as Numenorean servants began to come in front bearing a farewell gift of their own "we are a people on the move, but that doesn't mean we would have leave without returning proper graces, we are not savages after all" Palantir's father declares as he gestures for one of the servants to present a cage that has a cat on it "I had heard, King Daeron, that your wife and children had complained the lack of life in your halls despite the gardens and the other children that visit, so I will not give this to you but to your children, this tomcat that was raised and bred in our cities" the servant hands the cage to Ar-Gimilthôn who presented it to Daeron who opens the cage and then scoops the cat out of it and then with a meow and a purr the cat settles to him.

"You should have given me the cat my friend, he has already taken to me!" Daeron quips as the whole camp laughs while Palantir's father smiles in glee at the jape.

"But it is not a gift fit for a king, my friend" with a gesture another servant approaches with a horn, a bearskin rug, tapestries, and a suit of resplendent armor fit for a king "the horn and armor is of our making my friend, the armor itself should fit you and also your children once they had grown, the bearskin rug a hunting mishap when I was on the march to the field..." a chorus of laughter came as he said the tale of the bearskin "...and the tapestries we take from the cities at Slaver's bay when they tried to shackle us" he said as the gift were then given to the king of Westeros.

"We would have given you the shackles they try to put on us but they are of poor quality and would make us poor gift givers" Ar-Gimilthôn quips and a new chorus of laughter came as the gift exchange has ended and Daeron and Palantir's father retired to the main tent to further discuss their agreement of friendship and also prepare for Daemon's trial.

The whole affair itself is rather a blur for Palantir, one in which he couldn't help but wish to be faster "come young Phazân, we must prepare ourselves to sail away again" Alatar said as they went back to their tent and fix them up to carry back to the ships while also gathering the loot and the reward they have for fighting with the red dragons against their black-kin.

"Istari?" Palantir calls out as Alatar and Pallando look at him, "why do all men regardless of reason go to war?" the question was innocent and yet it took the two wizened blue wizards of guard, _people around me had been going to war, my father had lost his father and brother in battle_, the young Phazân thought as he looks at the two Istari.

"War and conflict has always been a part of all peoples young Phazân not even animals are shy to the calls of conflict" Pallando explains as he bent to the level of Palantir, "what is important Phazân is your reason for fighting and that you fight to secure those reasons" the boy nods and Pallando smiles at that and the three went on to their side of the camp where everyone was busy in packing up for a new journey ahead.

Palantir hands over a tent rug as a shanty caller began to sing a song and everyone began to follow his tune, it was a system that they took from the Dwarves to make every work as enjoyable and also efficient as the rhythm and tempo of the songs makes every person follow whatever it is they are doing from hoisting the sails of ships to dismantling their camp or even when marching to and away from battle, it was enjoyable for a boy of six years old to help with the army as they prepare for travelling, Phazân-Palantir and his friend, Börte, sing along passing stands, tent rugs, and digging up nails before handing them to the quartermasters who puts it on a pack-mule it was already afternoon when they finally finished with packing up for travel.

"Western lands are strange" Börte said as Palantir looks at her.

"Why is that?" he asks as he looks at the girl.

"I've seen some of the Western men boast over men they slain as they drink their cups over the campfires, even my father never boast of killing, to him it was just that killing because they come from a way to victory" Palantir shakes his head and then gestures for her to follow him on their march to the port of King's Landing.

"I don't know Börte why they do that" the boy honestly states as Ar-Gimilthôn, on horseback approaches them with a horse.

"Come we cannot have the Braavosi waiting for us my son" he simply said as he went to march at the column, Phazân-Palantir began to rub the horse's side and then looked at his friend Börte.

"Come on Börte, I'll help you ride on the horse" he said as the Variag girl did so, he held her feet then boosted her to the big saddle of the courser and then let himself be helped by his friend to the saddle, with one last look at the now growing noisy Targaryen camp, Phazân-Palantir urges his courser to ride away.

* * *

**_In the middle of the Redgrass field_**

The Redgrass field it was now called, and a monument were being built by the soldiers, _where the red dragon banners fly instead of black_, Daemon thought as he was led to the center of the field where a makeshift arena was made for his trial by combat, this field was supposed to be his field of glory if not for those event that led to the Adûnâim supporting his _brother_, Daemon could only sigh as his captors removed his bonds "try to run my lord and we will make sure that you will die like the rebel scum you are" a man-at-arms said as he was led to the field, _what's done is done_, Daemon thought as they stopped at the arena and people began to make way for him to enter it, _like a sheep that was led to a slaughter_.

Daemon Blackfyre was given an ordinary castle-forged steel arming sword and a shield, he tested its balance then found it sufficient enough, _it seems one of the White Cloak was chosen by my coward of a half-brother_, he thought as he saw Ser Gwayne Corbray come at the front with his Valyrian sword, Lady Forlorn, _oh how I wish for Blackfyre to be at my hand_, Daemon grimly thought as a helm was handed to him "thank you good squire" he said as the squire just nods to him and then backs away, Daemon puts on his helm, _Daenerys, Rohanne I'm so sorry and I hope you forgive me, especially you Daenerys_, but Daemon knew that prayers and wishes were for the weak as he looks at Ser Gwayne Corbray who stood with his sword on the ground and his stance at the ready, _what's done is done_.

"In the sight of gods and men let this contest of arms prove who is the just and the righteous!" Daeron his _brother _announced as everyone cheered and he raise his hand for everyone to be quiet, "let the trial by combat begin" both of the men began to assume a combative stance as Daemon began to raise his shield and keep his sword behind while the King's guard knight had his sword in an upper guard.

_He is waiting for me to attack_, Daemon thought as he stepped forward feigning a shield charge to which it seems to have worked as Ser Gwayne tried to sidestep and make a side-slash with his sword "Ahhh!" he screams as he tried to slam his shield into the knight, but it seems the man was smarter than Daemon could give him credit for as Ser Gwayne began to half-hand his two-handed sword and then parried his shield before twisting his sword and then locking themselves when he attempted to slam Daemon with his guard, Daemon attempted to attack once more with his arming sword making an over head stab to which Ser Gwayne despite the heavy armor effortlessly dodged by pushing himself away from the shorter blade's range before putting his hand to its handle once more and assuming an upper stance.

Both of them are on the same position at the start of the trial by combat once more.

"Come on, Ser Gwayne! Kill him!" came the cheers of the men.

"Death to Daemon the traitor and usurper!" came a jeer as his _brother _began to restore order by calling for them to be silent and let the duel be, an order that was followed as everyone fell silent, but still there was tension around them that could cut a Valyrian steel.

Daemon once more charged but this time his charge was met by Ser Gwayne who slashed his sword downward which forced him to raise his guard up, the Valyrian steel sword connects and Daemon's shield was destroyed and he fell to the weight of the blow itself "Arghhh!" he grunts as he tries to recover from his mistakes, _what's done is done_, he thought as he tried to stab the man who quickly parried his sword doing a half-hand grip once again and then forcing Daemon Blackfyre on the ground as he looks up at the looming armored figure of Ser Gwayne Corbray with his sword pointed at his chest.

_What's done is done_, Daemon thought as he looks defiantly at the knight, he might be defeated but he will not give his _brother _satisfaction by dying pathetically in front of the people of Westeros "do it!" he snarls as the King's guard did so driving the sword to his heart, _Rohanne, Daenerys, and Aegon_, their faces stayed to his eyes as he felt pain to his chest and he could feel his warm blood turning cold _what's done is done_, thus ends the life of Daemon Blackfyre, son of Aegon IV Targaryen and head of House Blackfyre, killed in his trial by combat.

* * *

_**197 after Aegon's Conquest**_

It took a long while but it was the new year in this world that finally brought them to Braavos "impressive" Alatar the Istari said and Börte could agree with the wizened old man as she saw the gargantuan statue that was called the Titan of Braavos, _what a large statue_, Börte thought as they passed through its striding gaze and finally arrived at the harbor of the city of Braavos where a group of old men wearing purple and yet the hue is almost black to her eyes awaited them with expectant gazes and welcoming smiles which shows teeth that is clean and white, while hers and the Adûnâim have clean teeth it still has coloring or as Börte remembers looking at a mirror whenever she cleans herself in the morning before meeting up with Palantir.

"Greetings Ar-Gimilthôn, ruler of the Ar-Adûnâim fleet and master of the waves of the seas, we of Braavos welcomes you in our most fair city" one of the Braavosi greets Palantir's father who returned the gesture with a slight bow of his own along with his wife, Lyssandra, who is carrying Palantir's siblings Bêlzagar and Azrâindil.

"I accept your greetings and invitation my lord" Ar-Gimilthôn said translated by Pallando as the Braavosi just laughed and waved off his greetings and the king of the Ar-Adûnâim looked to Pallando and Alatar who both shrugs at such an unexpected mirth given to them.

"We apologize your grace but here in Braavos we have no kings, or even lords, here in Braavos her people rule" _that is surprising_, Börte thought as even Ar-Gimilthôn was surprised by it, usually kings rule people not themselves, _for how can a people thrive without someone leading them_, her father used to say, "but of course as you have traveled far, the Sealord and his council have prepared a banquet for you and your people, before we proceed with negotiations" with that said they were led to the Sealord's Palace as presented by their guide, who is a member of the council, she and Palantir were led to a big garden where three children were playing games.

"You have an impressively large home" Chagatai simply states as he looks at every wall of the Sealord's Palace until they find themselves at a large garden where all kinds of flowers dwell.

The man didn't know how to respond to Börte's father's statement and was even taken aback when he takes note of the figure of Chagatai, "excuse my friend over here" Pallando said taking over the conversation, "the only houses he usually saw are small huts, as his peoples are always on the move" the Istari said as the man quickly recovered himself and then fix his collar

"Of course I meant no offense" the man said as he presents the garden to them. "Your children can remain here, these are the Sealord's children" the man said as Ar-Gimilthôn hesitated but was then reassured by Pallando that Alatar and her father, Chagatai could stay and watch over them and so Palantir's father left to feast with the Sealord and his council while they are left with the Sealord's children.

"Come along Palantir let your father and the adults talk" Lyssandra said as she leads him to the garden followed by Börte, her father, and Alatar.

"You are tall" one of the children, a girl of four years of age, remarked to Palantir pointing at him before looking at Börte "she is small and dirty" she remarks before being stopped by a servant.

"Bellegere you shouldn't be saying that to your father's guest!" the servant scolds the child while her siblings who were a bit older than her and Palantir just continued observing them with curious eyes, _even I am curious_, Börte thought as she remembers her uncle Bór's tales of the many peoples beyond the steppes of their tribe she observes them as they observed them as well.

"I am Tycho and this is my brother, Syrio, and of course you know my sister Bellegere we welcome you here as sons of Sealord Ferrego" a boy of ten presented himself and his siblings to Palantir as he looks at them while Lyssandra was smiling at their interaction.

"I am Palantir, this is my friend Börte" Palantir said presenting her to them although both Tycho and Syrio seem to back away as she presented herself, _is there something wrong with what I did? _Börte thought as she looks at Palantir who steps in for her sake, "is there something wrong with my friend, Börte?" Palantir asks as the two brothers looked at each other before sighing in varying degrees of uncertainty before Tycho decided to be the one to tell of their hesitation towards her.

"She looks like a Dothraki" Tycho said looking at Börte up and down that she herself felt uncomfortable, "we mean no offense if you are not but it's just that your clothing and looks reminds us of the savages" he continues as she shakes her head, _no need to be offended, when its unintentional_.

"From Palantir's people's view we are savages, so I am not offended" she said much to the surprise of Palantir and also the other children with her, it was true after all, from her father's stories concerning the men from the west, they seem to think of them as nothing more than brutes that are good for raising the horses they ride to war and also to provide fodder for them so that the sons of Numenor wouldn't die but them instead.

"Börte..." Palantir sighs as Tycho decided to change the subject as he is the older person to them all in the room.

"We can show you a game we have been playing before you arrive" Tycho suggested leading them to a table where she saw that table itself resembled a map separated by tiles, and are either occupied by a piece of animal, a siege equipment, a person holding weapon or riding a horse and holding a lance or sometimes it is empty "this is cyvasse, its a game from Volantis" Tycho said as he presented it to them, "the game is played by two people, each player had to capture the other's king or decimate his whole army" he gestures for the two of them to seat and Börte looks at the ornately carved pieces of the cyvasse as Tycho explains the rules of the game and then let Palantir and her play the game albeit being coached by both Syrio and Tycho while Bellegere cheers either of them.

"That is an interesting game" Alatar remarks as he approaches them as they play cyvasse, the Istari watching how the game progresses with such an interest that she believes that he was actually the one playing the game himself.

"It is my lord, a lot of people here often play it because they said that its a mark of a civilized man" Tycho said while warily looking at her as they continue to play, in which she won when she moved her cavalry on the flanks and then capture Palantir's king much to his surprise and to the amusement of the people around them as Tycho and his siblings congratulates her win alongside Palantir.

"Can we play again?" Palantir asks smiling at Tycho who nods.

"You can play another round, if the other players assent to it" _I don't mind, playing again_, Börte thought as once more Syrio began to coach her on how to position the her pieces while Tycho did so with Palantir who is now more eager in having a go against her at the simple board game that plays at war.

Börte looks around the gardens then found Chagatai, her father, who has slept on a couch probably had grown bored or tired with having to travel in the seas for too long or waiting around here, Lyssandra was busy in making sure that Palantir's siblings are not making a fuss by laying them on a soft pillow while singing a lullaby in a language that the young Variag girl couldn't understand, and of course their whole day proceeded with the game of cyvasse with Palantir getting beaten again or beating Börte once before getting beaten again, they played more until a servant had brought them food, a feast that was rarity even at their ships because of rationing and the fact that they mostly eat fish, _finally I am starving_, she thought as she saw chicken, goat, and venison glazed and cooked with honey and their taste an explosion of flavors that she had never tasted before or maybe it is because she had never tasted anything but hardtack, porridge, and dried fish or meats.

* * *

**At the court of the Sealord**

Pallando watched the proceedings as after the many formalities and food that was given to them had been fulfilled and the Sealord, his council and also some representative from their bank had finally requested their presence to meet with them. "We understand that you have been sea-bound for many months your grace and that you have been looking for land to settle into" Sealord Ferrego said and Ar-Gimilthôn nods in agreement in the ruler of Braavos' words.

"Indeed Sealord, we have been sea-bound ever since arriving from south of a place called Old Ghis, where cities filled with slaves and slave masters live, although whether by mistranslation or their own greed they tried to shackle us themselves which forced us to liberate the slaves and harry their coasts before sailing to the great black walls of Volantis who has undoubtedly heard of our exploits on Old Ghis, and out of fear tried to obliterate or enslave us themselves, we fought of course but at a cost of my father and my brother" it was a good thing that they had learned the history of Braavos, _letting them view us as peoples who didn't wish to be shackled would be a good way to foster ties with a city created by slaves who freed themselves_, Pallando thought as Sealord Ferrego seem moved by their tale and then held his hand up stopping Gimilthôn.

"Braavos gives condolence to your people, your grace, although I must be straight to the point as time is oft a commodity" the Sealord said as he stood up and then approaches them, "as much as we would like to do what the sunsetlanders did the same for you, allowing you harbor and refuge we know that you are proud, strong, and free if your accounts says" he gestures to a man, a representative of the Iron Bank who approaches them.

"I am a representative of the Iron Bank, my name is Illynoh Hennah" the man called, Illynoh bows to both Gimilthôn and Ferrego, "our proposal to you Ar-Gimilthôn and your people are simple, we would like you to defeat and capture Pentos, not for Braavos, but for yourselves as Pentos has been at war with us ever since our unmasking and has been threatening our freedoms with frequent border clashes and a battle that resulted in our defeat last month, we the Iron Bank are even willing to invest in such an endeavor should you accept" with a gesture a servant approaches them with a chest full of gold, silver, and rare jewels.

_They want us to be a shield against their other neighbors farther south_, Pallando thought as the large chest was put at the feet of Ar-Gimilthôn who looked at it without any sign of interest "you want us to capture this city called Pentos and take it for ourselves?" he clarifies as Sealord Ferrego nods, "as much as I would be happy to finally give a home to my people, but this endeavor that you had proposed to us would be hard as we only had a hundred and fifty ships not to mention that fifty of those ships contain all folks that cannot fight, another fifty cannot even be siege-worthy" Ar-Gimilthôn argues as he looks at the Sealord then to the representative of the Iron Bank, "if you want this endeavor of yours to be successful then I would suggest that you would have to give us more than just your investment" whispers among the council came but then was halted when the representative of their bank raises a hand to speak.

"We understand your worries your grace concerning such an endeavor, which is why we gave you the chest of valuables for they are not just an investment but our support" he hands the king of the Ar-Adûnâim a paper, "this is a contract from two mercenary companies that we had hired for this endeavor, they are the Company of the Rose and the Wolf Pack, all of them experienced mercenary companies" Ar-Gimilthôn reads the paper and then hands it to Pallando who looks at the paper then reads the details of the contract the Iron Bank signed with the mercenary companies joining their campaign.

_Usual promises of gold and land, a joint settlement with a newly established kingdom with the Adûnâim should we succeed in taking the city_, Pallando would have to discuss this further with Gimilthôn who was suspicious at the fact that the Iron Bank and Braavos were willing in giving them money and manpower for their campaign to get a new home to this new world _that is beyond Eru and the Valar's reach_.

"Can those mercenary companies be trusted that they will not desert me or betray me in any way" mercenaries are loyal to their gold after all, the representative of the Iron Bank looked at Ar-Gimilthôn straight in the eye.

"We assure you your grace, that there is a reason why we Braavosi are not just measured by our coin, our words also had worth, a lot of mercenary companies had learnt of it and never had the chance to speak to it with their colleagues" _that was the assurance we need_, Pallando thought as he could tell that Illynoh was speaking the truth, _for no man can tell truth if he doesn't look at a king straight in his eyes, but still suspicious of them to be these generous_, Ar-Gimilthôn turns to Pallando who nods at the hidden message he was saying, _we had to watch out for them, they can prove to be useful allies for now but they will strike against us when an opportunity comes_.

"Then I would graciously accept this opportunity to finally give my people a land to call their own" Gimilthôn said as he and Pallando slightly bowed to him and the Sealord, "thank you good people of Braavos, my people and I will remember this once our banners flew at the walls of Pentos" he said with the same assurance given to him by Illynoh before leaving the halls of the Sealord of Braavos.

"They spare no expenses for us to take down their enemy" Gimilthôn said in Adûnâic to Pallando who nods thoughtfully.

"They want us to be a shield to their southern neighbors that is why they are not sparing any expenses in helping us take the enemy city" Pallando replied in Adûnâic, "but still it is suspicious that they would have to hire two mercenary companies, such things are unwise and expensive if they just want to capture a city regardless of it being their age old enemy" _unless the Braavosi wanted to relieve itself of having to support two sellsword companies within it_, Pallando thought and Ar-Gimilthôn nods at the words that he had said as they turn to the gardens where at its entrance they were met by a tall, hawkish man, pale, long faced, and black of hair unlike most who lived here who are tan and would often dye their hair as was the custom of their people.

"Are you the king of the Numenoreans?" the man asked his accent thick as he said the name of their people, Ar-Gimilthôn nods "I am the Captain of the Company of the Rose, Karlon Snow we are at yours to command" the man said and Gimilthôn looks at Pallando who shrugs.

"It is good to meet you Captain Karlon Snow" he said as they walked towards the gardens of the Sealord's Palace "what are the odds that we are being sent to a suicide mission?" Gimilthôn asks and Karlon smiles at the question, and his smile reminded Pallando of a wolf.

"Your grace suicide mission or not we the Company of the Rose has always won on impossible odds, we will ensure that your banners will fly over the walls of Pentos before winter comes" Karlon states, his words itself is a statement of the fact that Ar-Gimilthôn couldn't help but look at the man approvingly, clearly impressed with the man's bravado.

"I like your confidence Captain Karlon" the king of the Ar-Adûnâim states, "I just hope that you are not all talk" with that said they took the other members of their party to meet with the other mercenary company that is to help them with the war against Pentos.

* * *

_**The Numenorean slums in the ports of King's Landing**_

Aegor Rivers, Rohanne, and Daemon's remaining children hid past the guards as they were now attempting to flee Westeros, _if only those Numenoreans kept to the sea_, Aegor bitterly thought but the world doesn't deal with what ifs, neither does he ever believe that anything is predestined. A child cries and Aegor glares at Rohanne who quickly tries to silence the babe, after their decisive defeat at the now famous Redgrass field and the death of Daemon Blackfyre on an unfair trial of combat, Aegor managed to escape the dishonorable envelopment done by Daeron and his new pets from across the sea.

He had also seen his half-brother Brynden who led an archer contingent to a flank, shooting down those men who were escaping at their side, it was a good thing that Aegor's helm protected him from getting skewered by the craven's arrow, _one day Brynden and I will have a reckoning, and one of us would have to remain standing_, Aegor swore but for now he had to make sure that Daemon's family escape from King's Landing to Tyrosh, Rohanne's home.

"Have you heard about it? Rohanne of Tyrosh, the wife of Daemon the traitor has escaped" came the loud voice of a city watch patrol, "I've heard that good-king Daeron is pissed that the traitor's family had escaped his clutches" there were whimpers now as Rohanne had finally managed to silence her child.

"Wouldn't blame them though, traitors and their kin don't get to live comfortably, they might try to launch a rebellion again" the man's partner said as they went pass them, _a little turn and they would have seen us_, Aegor thought as he returned his dirk to its sheath, Aegor loathed skulduggery but he had to do this if only for the future of the Blackfyre cause.

"Come on, no time to lose!" he orders the wife of Daemon who quickly gestures for her other children to follow and before the city watch could catch a glimpse of them they had taken a quick turn with none the wiser, they finally arrived at the end of the port dodging the city watch, with close calls here and there they had finally reached their destination a small yacht that would take them to Tyrosh. Aegor approached first as the watchmen began to draw their swords "I am a servant of the rightful king of Westeros" he declares as the men stopped.

"We know no king but Daemon Blackfyre, eldest son of Aegon IV Targaryen" one of the men said as Aegor then presented Rohanne and her children, they quickly took them into the yacht with such haste that Rohanne almost dropped the babe she was carrying if not for a man who help her "we must be quick your grace" one of the men tells of Rohanne, "as much as we had made sure that we are not revealed, we still look suspicious" the man said as he removed his hood revealing himself to be Ser Eustace Osgrey.

"We owe you our lives Ser" Rohanne said and the man just nods to him before looking at the two men with him before nodding and returning the hood to his head, "Ser? Are you not coming?" Rohanne asked as the man shook his head, smiling at her while bowing slightly.

"Someone should stay your grace and welcome you once more when the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms has returned, gods keep you" the man said as he quickly ran away while the yacht has been pushed away, and its sails had been raised the morning winds carrying it to Tyrosh. Aegor Rivers looked to the rising sun and then at his half-brother's queen and their children.

"I swear by Daemon's name your grace, I will not rest until a blood of Daemon Blackfyre sits on the Iron Throne" Aegor declares as Rohanne nods accepting his pledge and he once more turns to the rising sun, proud and tall as he was during his youth, _and so my struggle has begun_.

* * *

**Author's note: concerning Börte and Palantir, as much as I was once a child, I never had any experience concerning introductions and first impressions as a child since I was a quiet kid then so yeah I apologize for this pathetic attempt in delving to the mind of a child. Another thing also about Aegor 'Bittersteel' Rivers, the successive Blackfyre rebellions and also the Golden Company will still happen albeit with a different twist and yes the whole story would also extend towards the Long Night but first the foundations of the Ar-Adûnâim would have to come first.**

**My other stories would be continued as well so yeah this is it for this story for now.**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated**

**Miko 56**


	3. Ar-Gimilthôn III

**_Pentoshi shores_**

Half of the Company of the Rose sails with the Ar-Adûnâim fleet while the other half marched towards the Pentoshi-Braavosi border to loot and pillage the small hamlets and farmsteads of the Pentoshi countryside, _free the slaves, and encourage them to fight their masters, the usual things we did whenever fighting these bastards_, Karlon thought as he himself joined the Numenoreans on their ship towards the north of Pentos where Ar-Gimilthôn calls for them to halt and declare that this will be their forward base and future settlement if all goes well.

Karlon Snow watches as the Numenoreans plant their banners on the shore, a red rune surrounded by seven golden stars on a black field. A forward camp was put north of the city itself and it seems the Ar-Adûnâim are intent on settling on this site as Karlon saw the sea-bound people began to disembark, old men, women, and children began to be put ashore while the strong men began to set up tents and makeshift huts and also put the horses and cattle on the shore, at the center of the activity was the son of the king and his friend holding a tree sapling together as Allatar helps them in planting it on what can be the center of the settlement they were building.

"It is not a child of Nimloth of old Armenelos, of sunken Numenor..." one of the king's adviser, Pallando, states as Karlon observes the whole affair, "...although it seems there is a story to be made here" _indeed_, Karlon thought as a woman approaches Ar-Gimilthôn with a chest that has symbol of a five pointed star watching over a white tree.

_A white tree that reminds me of the godswoods of_ home, Karlon sadly thought as he looks at the whole affair, these people were like him and his men too, people without a home to call, _but unlike us who refuse to be ruled over by incestuous silver-haired cunts, the home of this people sank to the oceans or so they say_, whether it is true or not Karlon could tell by the solemnity of the whole event it was anything but false.

"When Zigûrun the deceiver whispered lies on Ar-Pharazôn's ear and burned fair Nimloth, my great, great, great-grandfather was able to gather its ashes and keep it in the hopes that one who is of the true line can scatter it on a new tree that will be our new home" the woman kneels to Ar-Gimilthôn who opens it revealing the ashes of what could have been a tree once.

"What is your name child?" he asks as the woman bowed deeper to him.

"Gimlîth your grace" Ar-Gimilthôn smiles and nods at his head as he bid the woman to stand, and he took a fistful of the ashes of Nimloth.

"A memory of Akallabêth" Ar-Gimilthôn proclaims as he shows it to the onlookers, "my father Gimilkhad swore that he will return us to our old glory, an oath that put us here whether by fate or by the false Valar that want to keep us out of their designs to Arda, here we are with a memory of Numenor that sunk" Ar-Gimilthôn then put the ashes on the tree, "but Numenor isn't just a place, it is a people and as we place this new tree on these shores, a new line shall prosper through me, with it a new kingdom that shall endure on this day till the end of days, this is our new home, this is our new world to make for ourselves, this settlement shall bear the name Mithkadar, a silver city for its silver seas" with that said a cheer rang out among the Numenoreans as their king raise his hand and signaled for them to go back to their preparation for the campaign.

There was something on the whole affair that reminded Karlon of home, _The North_, the Company of the Rose after all was founded by exiles who refused to bend the knee to Aegon the Conqueror, exiles now helping fellow exiles forge a home of their own, Karlon began to hear horns over the distance as everyone became alert, _a northern horn_, he thought as he quickly approaches Ar-Gimilthôn "your grace it is the Wolf Pack, the second mercenary company hired by the Braavosi" he said as Gimilthôn then calls for everyone to stand down.

"How can you tell Captain?" the king of the Numenoreans asked as he looks at him straight to his eyes, _I needed to stop doing that_, Karlon thought and yet whenever he looks at the king of the Numenoreans there is something akin to amusement in the man's eyes rather than offense.

"The horns, they are northern judging from the sound, no horn can bellow that deeper next to a wildling one, your grace" Karlon answers which seems to satisfy Ar-Gimilthôn. He was right though, banners of black wolves came as in front of the encampment were a thousand strong heavy cavalry, all riding armored destriers while they themselves are armored.

"I'll be damned if it isn't you Karlon!" came a voice of one of the riders who quickly dismounts from his horse and then approaches them, removing his helmet revealing himself to be Ser Willem Hornwood.

"Willem!" called out Karlon as the man gave him a bear hug that almost knocked the air out of him, while Ar-Gimilthôn looks at them with an indescribable expression "I didn't know you joined the Wolf Pack" he said as the man shrugs.

"And I didn't know you became a leader of the Company of the Rose you smart bastard, I always believed you could have been a maester, with your smart mouth!" Willem said as the king of the Numenoreans approached them.

"I assume Captain Karlon that you know this man?" he asks to which Karlon nods presenting Willem to the tall king.

"This is Ser Willem Hornwood, your grace-" before Willem could properly present his friend, Willem wasted no time in presenting himself to the king of the Ar-Adûnâim who is looking at them.

"Leader of the Wolf Pack your grace!" Willem boisterously proclaims as Ar-Gimilthôn's eyebrow raised at that, "my company is at yours to command, if you will have us!" he kneels in front of the king who quickly gestures for him to stand.

"I assume that you know of your duties Captain concerning the campaign?" Gimilthôn asks to which Willem nods, "good I want you to be the vanguard of our forces when we marched to a fort near the river Rhoyne as we need to secure it and make it our supply point and cut off Pentos' grand aqueduct before we march to the city itself" he said as he quickly went back to the camp barking orders in Adûnâic for the men to assemble for their march to the river Rhoyne. Karlon watches as Ar-Gimilthôn approaches his wife and children bidding them farewell and also an order to their eldest to keep their family safe, while also looking to one of his advisers, Allatar and then nodding to the man before joining them, the conquest of Pentos has begun.

* * *

_**197 after Aegon's Conquest**_

The march to the river Rhoyne is anything but uneventful except for some forays with Pentoshi patrols whom they dispatched quickly before they could report back to their masters concerning a large army within their territory. One of those forays was a farmstead owned by one of the magisters of Pentos which they quickly put to the torch, the Wolf Pack were the first ones to attack the farmstead.

_Like orcs attracted to a helpless man they came and ravage_, Pallando thought as the Wolf Pack led by Willem began to burn and pillage the farmstead taking all the foodstuffs that can be carried or consumed while burning the rest, slaves were freed and were sometimes armed and sent across the countryside to spread further havoc, there were screams and grunts as Pallando followed the sounds with his entourage. _Of course_, the mercenaries had decided to take the women of the farmsteads and descend into an orgy of rape and violence that is not a good example to give for the Ar-Adûnâim.

"Stop this madness!" he shouts as every mercenaries began to stop what they are doing and with the help of his Numenorean guards they began to force the mercenaries out of the main halls of the farmstead, some even being literally dragged away from a woman beneath them before they could respond.

"What is the meaning of this old cunt!" one of the mercenaries snaps at Pallando as he shakes off one of his guards, still naked underneath, "we were just having a bit of fun, you and the tall men with you could have joined us, if you want to!" he said and the blue wizard couldn't help but see red, drawing his scimitar, Pallando then cut down the mercenary who said that, quickly liberating the man's head from his shoulders.

"I don't know whatever disgusting customs you mercenaries have..." he spat as he sheaths his sword, "but as you are under the command of the Ar-Adûnâim army there are certain restrictions and disciplines that you must follow as you do not only represent your company but also our people" Pallando then gestures for the Ar-Adûnâim soldiers to put the men on cages and under guard until he could discuss this with Ar-Gimilthôn, _and no doubt their captain would hate it_, but still it was to be expected of mercenaries. The night came and they decided to camp for the night and Pallando was right about earlier thoughts.

"Your grace, one of your men killed one of mine! Just because of what?! They wanted to have some fun with the women here?!" Willem shouts to the king who welcome the sight of Pallando as he enters the tent.

"And by what right does it dictate you that you are allowed to rape women who could have been the same age as children _ser_?" Pallando states stressing the man's knightly title, _the man swore to his seven gods to uphold the virtues of knighthood and yet is found wanting by it_, "for a knight you seem to have a twisted view of what can be considered as real knightly virtues when in war" the blue Istari said as Ser Willem slammed his fist on the table.

"Are you questioning my honor, old man?" he growls while Pallando evenly looks at him in the eye.

"No _ser _I am questioning its lack of presence" before the situation could become ugly, the king decided to put himself between them.

"That is enough" Ar-Gimilthôn remarks as he looks at the two of them, "I can only pay you for the death of one of your men Captain Willem and a promise that my man here will not once more hinder your affairs, along with the release of your men under my custody with no punishments of any kind..." before the man could respond the king raise his hand "...however your men must know that as they are marching under my banner they are expected to behave as someone under the command of the Ar-Adûnâim, under _me_" with a dismissive gesture from Ar-Gimilthôn, Willem could only bristle out of the tent with a grunt.

"That is lax of a punishment, your grace" Pallando said as the king simply raised an eye on him.

"I cannot say the same for you Istari, we are only starting our campaign and you have been causing problems in this army" Gimilthôn dryly remarks as he sat on his chair, "I cannot send them again at the vanguard, particularly because of _this_" he said as he began to drink water on his skin, "I don't like it too, truth be told, if my father were alive he wouldn't hesitate in having those men strung to the nearest tree, but we need their numbers if we want to succeed and create a kingdom of our own here on this world" the king of the Ar-Adûnâim sighs as a cat meows and Ar-Gimilthôn approached the young queen and took it by the neck and look directly to its eyes.

Interestingly, those of the line of Berúthiel had a special affinity for cats an ability that always unnerved the two blue Istari. Pallando watches as Ar-Gimilthôn began to speak in bastard Quenya to the cat, speaking in a mixture of words that is both common and uncommon for the blue wizard, which was then returned with a hiss and purr before Ar-Gimilthôn put the cat down and let it be on its way.

"What did your pet say?" Pallando asks as the king of the Numenoreans look at him and then smiles.

"It seems the Captain of the Wolf Pack is sending a message to his masters at Braavos, concerning the development of these events" Gimilthôn said as he sat back to his seat, "I trust that you can make sure that this message will not reach Braavos Istari" he simply said as Pallando bows to the man, _no matter what happens, we always come first_, as the king of the Ar-Adûnâim always say, some things always require skulduggery in the end.

_If it helps whittle down the mercenary forces numbers, and help us settle down on this lands then by the Valar I will do so_, "it would be my genuine pleasure your grace" Pallando said as he left the tent and do the job that was given to him by the king.

The next day they left the farmstead into a smoldering ruin, the women and children were then sent to Mithkadar with a party of armed freed slaves, whereas the rest of the farmstead's inhabitants were scattered across Essos. Pallando joined the vanguard of their army, a mix of men of the Company of the Rose and also some of the Adûnâim's Rozadan footmen, it was awfully quiet as they march and Pallando could only wish for something to happen, which for some reason was granted an arrow flew and hit one of the mercenary horsemen.

"Defensive formation!" came the shouts of Captain Karlon as they quickly dismounted and quickly formed a defensive formation with the Rozadan footmen, horns from across the field gave out shrill shriek and screams began to be heard, "Dothraki! Dothraki!" he shouts as horses began to burst out of a thicket of trees on their side.

"Azgarâda!" came the cry of the Rozadan as they brace for the impact of the charge horses neighed as they began to wheel away from the wall of steel that was arrayed to them, "Ar-Adûnâim! Ar-Adûnâim!" came their cry as the first wave of the enemy tried to break their impenetrable fortress of shield and spear.

"Archers!" shouts out Pallando as bows and crossbows were raised, "aim for the horses, not the men, the horses!" he calls out as bolts and arrows fly and then some of the horses began to fall along with their riders, the Dothraki tried to wheel away but now they had lost their momentum and whatever order they had descended into chaos as the convoy of their van began to be seen.

"Reinforcements!"

Khandish outriders led by Chagatai cut off the Dothraki's point of retreat while the Ar-Adûnâim Abrazanim Narduzagar charged in with their two-handed flame shaped swords, Ar-Gimilthôn approaches them with his horse "Captain Karlon! Istari!" he calls out as he and his men began their cleanup of the whole battle, taking prisoner and killing those who tried to escape them.

Clad in the golden raiment of his predecessor and of Ar-Pharazôn, Ar-Gimilthôn looked like a true king of old Numenor, his helmet had the designs of the rays of the sun as his crown, and a golden mask that had the face of Ar-Pharazôn on it, on his hand was an heirloom sword of those of the line of Berúthiel, Gimilzagar, made when a star fell from the south and was used by a smith that was accompanying Berúthiel and her child and forged it into a sword worthy of the true heir of Numenor. Pallando saw Karlon hesitating in kneeling there and then at the presence of the man in the middle of the battle.

"your grace" Karlon greets as they began to relax although still alert for any changes in the battlefield, "Dothraki ambushers, probably hired by the Pentoshi to halt our progress" he said as the king of the Numenoreans nods to the information.

"Whatever they are, they will soon know the might of the Ar-Adûnâim! Break off and cut down the remains of this rabble before we capture the first fort!"

* * *

_**Pentos**_

Refugees and survivors from the raids committed by these Ar-Adûnâim that sacked Volantis came to Pentos, all of them telling the same story, the Ar-Adûnâim came and burned everything in their path, taking whatever they can while burning what they can't carry, Black Ships were often seen attacking their merchant ships, some of the magisters had been worried concerning such events as the plummeting economy made a lot of people nervous and the slaves angry.

Which is why Sakalkhôr and the rest of Berúthiel's Rangers were here, they had to create panic and induce a revolt from the slaves and also the poor, make the city focus in itself rather than the outside lest they send a large force in Mithkadar or against the main force marching to their source of water at the river Rhoyne. Sakalkhôr and his group has been sent here before the Ar-Adûnâim sailed away from the ports of Braavos as a reconnaissance and saboteur force, it was a good thing that the blood of Numenor isn't strong to him and his group or else the city would be suspicious of tall, sea-tanned foreigners in their midst.

A letter was sent to him by the king last night he was to sabotage the ports of Pentos and incite a riot there along with the freed slaves from the raided farmsteads that act as informants "new orders from our king" he proclaims in their hideout as he began to read the instructions to his men before burning the paper to a candle, "we shall do this as the guards are busy with looking out at the front walls of Pentos" he said as everyone took in his words "and remember the most important of all no one will speak our tongue, except the tongue of the slaves" everyone nods as they began to ready themselves for the mission.

There was also an extra orders to which Sakalkhôr was more than happy to follow "Lysello" he calls out the only Braavosi in there group, "you will join us in this endeavor" he said to which the man nods eager _and not knowing that this will be the last mission he has with our group_.

"Anything that can help us put down the Pentoshi!" Lysello said as Sakalkhôr smiles at him and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

It was night when Sakalkhôr and his men began their mission, they stealthily passed through the beautiful pillared manses and houses of the city acting as dock workers reporting to the docks and helping with whatever cargo the Pentoshi receive. They arrived at the docks and there they did their mission "kill all the sentries" his lieutenant, Aglarân, orders as they killed the first sentries at one of the warehouses before torching them.

"Freedom against the masters!" they all cried out as the remaining sentries began to panic while the dock slaves and the dock workers began to shout out there own words of revolt as well as every one of them took out clubs and whatever they can use as a weapon and then proceed to beat the dock guards to death "Freedom, death to the masters!" came the cries as the docks went into a mess of burning and uncontrollable rage.

"This will send a message!" Lysello excitedly said as they began to fled the chaos, in which Sakalkhôr just shakes his head and then drew a knife that he took from a dock sentry, _sorry about this_, Sakalkhôr thought but it was Ar-Gimilthôn's orders and also the man is a spy for the Braavosi and the orders were to pull Braavos into a war with Pentos so as to make sure that the focus of the Pentoshi wasn't on them while also weaken their _benefactor_.

"No" he said as he quickly stabbed the man before he could respond, Sakalkhôr then pulled a flag of Braavos "but this is a message" he said dropping the Braavosi flag on the man's corpse before he and his comrades fled the scene leaving the body to be seen by the sentries in the morning at the eastern entrance of the docks.

* * *

_**The river Rhoyne**_

Siege engines were assembled once they reached the fort at the river Rhoyne "I want the rocks from the aqueducts to be used as ammunition for the trebuchets!" Engineer Balkumagân orders as they quickly break apart the Pentoshi aqueduct. The fort itself is situated on a hill and was connected by the aqueduct, the Ar-Adûnâim had surrounded the fort and had cut it off from the outside world through a circumvallation using the trees that is around the river. The circumvallation itself was built for a week and when the defenders tried to make a sally they were driven off by the king and also the mercenaries with them.

"Come on men, quickly, quickly!" Balkumagân urges on as the men quickly load the stones to a mule which was sent back to their encampment, his assistant and student, Tarîkmagân handed him a water skin which he accepted.

"Thanks my student" he said as he took big gulps and then poured some on his head for the pleasure of cooling himself under the hot Essosi sun.

Tarîkmagân observes the men as they finished gathering stones of the aqueduct for ammunition of the trebuchet "how long do you think the defenders will hold on before they surrender?" Tarîkmagân asks as Balkumagân returns his water skin.

"We continue to pressure them and maybe they will hold for three days or the next week" Balkumagân answers as they once more went back to their camp where it seems the king is preparing once more an assault with the Wolf Pack as the ones lead it, _the Nardambar_, in every assault on a fortified position there will always be a group that was essentially sent as the first to die where the fight is going to be the thickest, the doomed ones or the Nardambar, usually these groups of men were just auxiliaries sent so that those of the blood of Numenor will not have to waste their lives.

"What does Nardambar mean?" one of the men of the Wolf Pack asks as one of their Ar-Adûnâim counterparts said.

"It means fated to the walls" _a lie of course, just to make them more complacent in attacking first_, Balkumagân thought as the Adûnâim continue to explain it to the sellsword "if you capture the walls then that means the first of the spoils are yours" the idea itself seem to appeal on the sellsword as he quickly joined his comrades as they prepare to march to their doom. Balkumagân took himself at the part of an elevated position of the circumvallation so that he can watch the battle.

Trumpets began to erupt as the trebuchets started to give the Wolf Pack cover as they advance shoulder to shoulder crying there battle cries as they began their march to the walls with some of them carrying ladders once they were halfway from the walls, the trebuchets had stopped their firing and then began the firing of arrows from the defenders as the men advance whilst covered by their own missile troops, ladders began to be raised on the walls as the Wolf Pack began to struggle climbing it and what follows were what often happens from all the sieges the Engineer Balkumagân often saw.

The Wolf Pack struggles to fight off the defenders and make a ground on the walls, Balkumagân often saw their flag being raised high only to be cut down by the enemy and so the cycle repeats and repeats itself until the violence began to lessen and it seems the defenders were being driven back, "send a message to the Company of the Rose and tell them that the enemy is focused on the western part of their walls" Balkumagân hears Ar-Gimilthôn order a rider.

"Yes my king"

"The Wolf Pack is taking the brunt of the enemies' defenses" the engineer surmises as the king only shrugs.

"They know why they are hired for" Ar-Gimilthôn simply said, "should this primary assault not work, I want you to resume loosing stones to the fort, if we can't have it, I want it ruined so that it can't be used by any enemies again" Balkumagân bows to the king.

"By your orders" with that said the king nods and then began to bark orders to the men to prepare for a second wave of assault, the Abrazanim Nardutarîk were called to form up alongside the Nardubadwib and with a great speech from the king they raise an uproar to which they began to advance under the cover of the hail of arrows of the Nardubadwib, they were able to secure the walls much to the relief of the attackers and before the sun sets the keep of the fort finally surrenders and the king of the Adûnâim resplendent in his golden armor accepted the commander's surrender, when the slaves were then freed and then given arms they once more march towards Pentos.

* * *

_**The walls of Pentos**_

The merchants of the city were already panicking, while the freemen were at an uproar and outrage, the magisters were blaming the prince for his incompetence. The prince of Pentos however had strengthen the security of the city from the ruined ports to its walls, Pentos would have to be a fortress that will protect its business and its people, _as always she has been_. Pentos is now experiencing hard times, times that wasn't expected by everyone living in Pentos.

After the disastrous dock fire that happened to the ports of Pentos which was done by Braavosi spies and saboteurs, the magisters sent a delegation to Braavos to properly declare war against them while at the same time threaten their ruling prince with death should he fail in taking care of the problem that they had within their borders. The prince of Pentos had just learned of their new enemy within, the Ar-Adûnâim also known as Numenoreans, these barbarous corsairs were said to have harried the Slavers' bay and had tried to do the same to Volantis only to fail and were forced to sail to the Sunset lands where they were welcomed by the king on the Iron Throne from what his scouts had reported it seems these Numenoreans were supplemented by mercenaries.

_Probably hired by Braavos to help them_, the prince of Pentos surmises as he gripped the stone parapet of his walls, the Adûnâim had already cut their grand aqueduct off and had captured their forts at the hills of Andalos in short span of a moon and a week, the magisters had already threatened him with death if he didn't took actions against these corsairs from Sothoryos "what do these people want?" he asks no one in particular as a man came running towards him, a courier and a scout sent to observe the Dothraki Khalassars in dealing with these corsairs from Sothoryos.

"My prince a report from another Dothraki Khalassar we had sent against them" the man said as he quickly gave the scroll to the prince who quickly unfurled it and his face could only scrunch up in the reports that was given to him, _a failure once more_, they had always relied too much to the Dothraki savages, a tragedy they are now paying themselves.

The Pentoshi had already hired some Dothraki bands to deal with them although it seems even the dreaded horsemen of the Dothraki seas were no match to the often sea-bound Numenoreans, _we'd already empty the treasury providing for them_, the prince could only sigh as he returned the scroll back to the courier, _once more the Dothraki had failed in scattering those barbarians_, he could only make a dejected sigh as he looked at the man before him.

"Your orders my prince?" the courier asks as the prince decided to consider his options, a war on two fronts against Braavos and the Numenoreans would overstretch them although he observes from the reports that come to him, that the Ar-Adûnâim only came here because they were sent by Braavos, and the dreaded magisters had already threatened him with death, _maybe I could try and talk to them_, it was a long shot but still it was an idea with consequences that he is welcome to take. He took a deep breath and then rubbed his chin before resolving himself once more.

"Can you send a message to these Ar-Adûnâim?" he asks as the man could only nod "tell them that I am open to meet with them to the hills of Andalos, a diplomatic talks" the courier then provided him with a paper and he began to write a letter addressing the Numenoreans.

_If it succeeds then my head could be saved along with the city of Pentos itself_, the prince thought as he gave the paper to the courier and the man was already off, travelling to wherever the Ar-Adûnâim is and the prince of Pentos looked beyond the walls of his city seeing the courier off.

* * *

_**The hills of Andalos**_

_A man will always be afraid if he lets fear rule over him, so don't be afraid my son for you are of the blood of the kings of Akallabêth, of old Armenelos that has been long gone, so stand tall and be brave_, those were the final words of Ar-Gimilthôn's father, Gimilkhâd, before the man rushes into battle against the Volantenes and died and was followed by his brother, Gimilzôr, it has been a year now and yet the memory was still fresh on his mind.

A message arrived from a Pentoshi courier, the message itself showed of desperation and the king of the Ar-Adûnâim is not one to waste his time hearing the pleas of a desperate man, if not for the advise of the Istari Pallando who told him better to hear what the man has to say and so here they are now at the hills of Andalos here to meet with the delegates of Pentos that has arrived with much fanfare and ceremony that showcase whatever they can call power.

Ar-Gimilthôn observes the Pentoshi delegates that include their ruler, the prince of Pentos dressed in colorful silks to show off his wealth and power, but not his weakness. The king of the Numenoreans was daily being given reports of events in the city along with how it was ruled and how it was defended and what made it rich and also how it could be destroyed, _Princes that don't have any control to its powerful merchants, or nobles is no true ruler of a kingdom, let alone a city_, he thought as he knows the prince of Pentos is desperate and so has decided to call for talks in the hills of Andalos, whose forts they had captured and its farmsteads burnt to the ground.

_The man may dress in rich silks and try to stand tall, but he is still inferior than to a man wearing steel_, Gimilthôn scrunches his face as he looked at the man who was smiling to him, _he is looking down on me because I am just someone from the seas that raid his lands and not his new sovereign_, Gimilthôn could only return the smile with his own "the prince of Pentos, Malo Sorratis" his herald announce as Pallando did the same for him.

"The ruler of the Ar-Adûnâim, and lord of the waves and seas, Ar-Gimilthôn" after the two rulers have been done sizing each other up, _time to see what they want_, "I am rather surprise that you would ask for us to talk, base on my experiences with your cousins at the Slavers' bay and at Volantis you people seem intent on enslaving us rather than talk with us" he said as the prince just shrugs as if it was nothing.

"I am sure that those events could have been prevented if only they know the art of asking questions first before drawing swords" the man said as he drum his fingers on the table, "how much did Braavos pay you to harry our lands?" Malo asks as the king of the Ar-Adûnâim's eyes shot up at the offer that was given to him, acting in any least interested in what the man has to say.

"Why do you asks Prince Malo, will you offer double or triple what Braavos gave us?" Ar-Gimilthôn asks as the prince of Pentos smiles, _he wants to bribe us, thinking that we are like those Dothraki savages_.

"We could offer you gold and silver double the amount, along with our open support to invade Braavos" Prince Malo said giving him a smile that Ar-Gimilthôn finds sickly, _such arrogance of a people about to be defeated_, he thought as the man continues "we the people of Pentos understand that you and yours have sea-bound for a long time and would like to settle somewhere, why not to Braavos" the man said as Ar-Gimilthôn couldn't help but notice that there is desperation in the man's voice and also words, "we could also allow you the use of the settlement you created north of our city share in our prosperity so to speak"

Ar-Gimilthôn had to laugh at that as the prince of Pentos looks at him strangely "did I say something funny, good king?" Prince Malo asks as Gimilthôn looks at the man's eyes and then stood tall, far taller and prouder than the man before him who wears silks.

"Look upon your prince, good people of Pentos, see how he desperately tries to buy you time that you do not have" he said as his attention went directly to Prince Malo, "you seem to misunderstand your position here good prince, we are not here talking as two rulers, we are here talking as a sovereign and a subject, between the weak and the strong" some of the Pentoshi delegates began to draw swords while Gimilthôn's guards just stood motionless with pure discipline and restraint, "here are my terms good prince surrender your city and be ruled under my banner or perish and be scattered like dust in the wind" he turns around and then leaves the tent followed by his guards and also the Istari.

"They are getting desperate" warns Pallando as the king of the Ar-Adûnâim nods at that, "and a desperate beast is dangerous"

"But not this one Istari" Gimilthôn states as they return back to their camp and he began to call for men to assemble one last time before they march on the walls of Pentos, "men of Numenor, my brethren!" he calls out in Adûnâic as every Azrazâir, Rozadan, Abrazanim, and loyal King's men assemble in front of him, like the echoes of the armies of Numenor of old "the rulers of the city called Pentos has begged me to attack our benefactor from Braavos" there were jeers as he held up his hand to silence "it is but a desperate plea of a dying man! We are here to make a new home for ourselves and our children, so we will make sure that no one, not them or even our benefactors themselves can stop us from grabbing what is rightfully ours so make ready and take it yourselves!" there were now cheers as Ar-Gimilthôn calls for them to make ready for the march to Pentos.

* * *

**Author's note: concerning the Ar-Adûnâim concept of honor and also their way in both peace and war, as a very neutral faction in the DaC mod, I kind of imagine them to be somewhat both schemers and yet with a pinch of honor here and there, yes they will always be using skulduggery here and there these were Numenoreans that aren't the Elendili, but its more likely to be more to put them on a ground with which they can call advantageous, but more still if they are your allies or at peace with them expect them to not stab you in the back unless it puts them at an advantage or when you leave your neck expose for them to slash at.**

**So yeah in times of war, truth will always be the first casualty, while in peace falsehood would have to stand aside for truth. The reason why they didn't take advantage of the problems of the Iron Throne in Westeros was because of the fact, King Daeron welcomed them without any hostilities, and the reason why they play along with Braavos is because it is an opportunity for them to finally have a home to call to, although they have to drag Braavos forcefully into a conflict just for their own advantage.**

**The next chapters shall be about the final moments of the Pentoshi wars, and the ****Ar-Adûnâim consolidation of powers and also the outbreak of the Second Blackfyre rebellion and how it will be for the ****Ar-Adûnâim to react to such events****.**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


	4. Ar-Gimilthôn IV

_**The walls of Pentos**_

The Ar-Adûnâim had arrived at the very front of Pentos itself and at the head of the marching column were heads of Pentoshi commanders and Dothraki Khos put on pikes for the whole defenders to see. Pallando believes that it is cruel and barbaric, but he had always had seen it of elves and dwarves that often put heads of orcs at the entrance of their forest and castle-mines so as to deter any further attacks, also some of the more _civilized _men of the west would often put the heads of their enemies on their pikes or on their walls just as a way of intimidation against them, next to them were three story large trebuchets called destroyers that had been made a week ago before their march towards Pentos.

"People of Pentos!" cried out Ar-Gimilthôn as he stood in front of his men alongside with Pallando and his guards all of them stopping at a distance wherein the range of the bows wouldn't reach them, "your time has come, but it need not end in bloodshed! Surrender and kneel before me or perish!" he calls out as the defenders just jeered to him to which he just took it as a cue that Pentos will not surrender and so he wheels his horse and turns towards the engineers operating their siege weapons.

"Fear the city is rank with it..." he looks at one of his engineers who quickly nods "...let us ease their pain" he declares as the engineers began to bark orders.

"Fire the destroyers!" barrels began to fly into the air as the defenders quickly took cover thinking that those were destructive ammunition only for it to shatter at the contact of walls and showing shackles of slaves.

"Slaves of Pentos! Rise up against your masters and secure your freedom!" Ar-Gimilthôn calls out as the siege had finally begun with shouts from the attackers calling out for the slaves within the city to rise up against their masters, _quite a tactic_, Pallando had to give the king of the Ar-Adûnâim some credit as the city relied much on its poor and also its slaves for its economy it is also a double edge sword as a large population of those would result in a strained relationship that can explode if outside pressures forces it. The next step of the siege is putting more and more pressure on the besieged as the Ar-Adûnâim fleet had begun to blockade their ports making sure that no one gets in or gets out of the ports of Pentos, they did this as they make sure that the defenders are distracted through various attempts at scaling their walls using the mercenaries that are marching with them.

Night came and Pallando could see the fires that rose within the city, it was a slave revolt and it seems some of the slaves had tried to open the gates for the Ar-Adûnâim, "do not rush in and attack!" orders Karlon Snow and Willem Hornwood to their men who seem to eager to go into the city, when the fires inside the city had died and the gates that the slaves of Pentos had tried opening for them had closed once more, the king had began to order the trebuchets to rain fire and rocks at the city.

"They shall not rest even at this night" the king declares as the next day came another assault from the attackers. "Onward men! Onward!" Ar-Gimilthôn urges on the men as they began to rush to the walls with relative successes, but all of the besiegers knew better than to think that this was anything but easy their first attack was repelled and so they spent the whole day and night using the trebuchet so as to not make the enemy feel too comfortable or even allow them respite.

It has been four days now since they had been besieging the city there had been no progress as the defenders grew desperate and fiercer in the succeeding days and at the command tent in the night, Ar-Gimilthôn is listening to the generals of his divisions concerning their plans for the next day of the siege. "How many did we lose?" he asks as the general of the Rozadan, Castamir, gives his report of their casualties.

"Ninety men dead, fifty men injured, three missing your grace" Castamir stated as Ar-Gimilthôn turns to the general of the Abrazanim, Abrazân.

"Fifty men dead, thirty three injured, eight missing" the man finished and then Ar-Gimilthôn looks at the general of the loyal King's men, Arnuzîr, who quickly went into attention.

"Twenty three injured" Ar-Gimilthôn looks surprised at that as he had never used the most elite division of their army unless needed and when it is desperate the man quickly shifted and corrected himself, "most of the injured are from the armsmen who assisted with the assault your grace" the king nods and then turns at the two mercenary captains.

"Your casualties?" Ar-Gimilthôn asks as the two sighed tiredly.

"Half of our companies your grace" Willem spoke for them as Karlon steps in.

"Your grace, a scout that you had ordered me to send had just come back, they had sighted a half-mustered force bearing Myrish banners had been assembled at the borders of Pentos, it seems they are joining the war on the side of the city we are just besieging" _this is bad_, Pallando thought as much as possible they had to capture the city or else they would be forced to fight on two fronts.

"How far are they?" Ar-Gimilthôn asks his eyes serious.

"As they are a half-muster I'd say it'll be a moon before they can fully assemble and had gathered provison for the march for Pentos" Karlon states as he looks at the king directly in the eyes, "but if they hired a mercenary company and marched with them, then I'd say they have one to two weeks at most"

Captain Willem decided to take over the conversation "unless your grace considers a tactical withdrawal and redeploy our armies where we can confront the reinforcements, or even capturing the city as soon as possible, we must act quickly" he said as he was then being confronted by the king's generals.

"Are you suggesting that we back out now on this investment?!"

"I am only speaking what I think through the facts at hand, despite the fact that Braavos is now directly supporting us!"

"If we retreat now then we lose everything!"

"Better to lose anything than be a dead man!"

"Mercenary scum!"

"Enough!" Ar-Gimilthôn slams his fist on the table, "we argue and fight in the end it will not help us get into the city!" he shouts at everyone as a ranger opens the tent flap with a paper on his hand.

"I am a part of a group of Berúthiel's Rangers you have sent under the command of Captain Sakalkhôr to spy and sabotage on Pentos" the man bows as he gives a message to Ar-Gimilthôn who began to read it, he looks at the two mercenary captains and then at his generals before looking back to the man from inside Pentos.

"What happened to you all? I expected that since you are inside you can help us into the city?" Ar-Gimilthôn demanded as the man bowed himself deeper in apology.

"Before we were able to send news my king, the Pentoshi had tighten the city's security, I only volunteered to sneak around them as the captain and the others created a diversion for me" the man explains as the king sighs and then dismisses the man.

"Assemble all of the troops" he simply said as he walked pass them and left the tent, followed by Pallando.

"You have an idea your grace?" he asks as the king nods and Pallando took a deep breath as they walk in their camp.

"Aye it was from the spies I planted on the city" he said as they proceeded at the center of the camp where everyone in their army has been assembled, "I want every men to be grouped into ten" he orders the officers as they did so and everyone were formed up into ten, "every tenth men from every single division, including the mercenaries are to be the Nardambar, in the next night our men from the inside shall provide an opening for us to exploit, and the Nardambar should hold it for us" Ar-Gimilthôn then dismisses them and bid them all to rest for now.

The next day the defenders attempted a sally out from the walls and also the blockaded port and despite the ferocity of their attack, they were driven away by the Numenoreans who decided to continue bombarding the city until the sun went down and the agreed upon plan was then put into action as the Nardambar once seeing the opening at the gates began to rush towards it killing all of the guards that tried to overtake them.

"Not yet!" Pallando orders his contingent of cavalry, _when there is a fire that can tell that the men had caused enough havoc we will ride into the city_, the Istari thought and when he began to see a flare of flame rising on the city he began to drew his sword "now is the time! Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" he cries out as his cries were followed by the Variag cavalry with him before charging into the opening, and the fighting that ensues lasted until the sun rises and they had opened the second gates along with the slaves of the city who had decided to help them and seize their freedom against their masters at Pentos.

"To the ports, overtake the guards and let the Ar-Adûnâim take the ports!" cried the slaves as they all rush towards the ports while Pallando and the remaining Nardambar busy themselves with opening the gates.

"Gods had abandoned us!" came the cries of the defenders as they are being overtaken and the flags of the Ar-Adûnâim began to wave around their walls, it was the sixth day when they had finally taken the city of Pentos by storming it.

* * *

_**Pentos**_

The ruling class of the city had fled on the prince's manse as the slaves and the poor of Pentos began to tore down their houses the whole day until the night came and it had finally relaxed and the ruling class of Pentos had finally surrendered formally to the Numenoreans. _They are calling it the glorious day of liberation_, Karlon thought but there was nothing glorious in the way the people liberated themselves, throughout the night screams and fires were breaking out repeatedly as the now freed slaves and the poor took out their anger to the people that exploited them.

_Yet we are also exploiting them_, Karlon thought, Ar-Gimilthôn masterfully manipulated their feelings to their masters that as the siege progresses there were riots and arson that finally forced the city to capitulate. The surrender of the city was symbolic as well as it was militarily as Karlon watched the Prince of Pentos handing over his staff to Ar-Gimilthôn, followed by the magisters and their families who kneel before him, offering their most valuable treasures at his feet "oh conquering king why did you do this to us?!" they demanded as their conqueror just looks at them with indifference.

"Because the strong take what they can and the weak can only suffer from it" Ar-Gimilthôn simply said as he gestures for his men to kill them, the Prince of Pentos and some of the magisters accepted their fate while those pathetically tried to beg for mercy, Karlon didn't like it although he had to admire the practicality of it all, if they were to rule this land for their own then the old and defunct local nobility would have to go.

The Numenoreans began to call upon the now freed slaves to take knives and swords and tells them to kill the magisters and the Prince themselves, the slaves wasted no time in doing so some even going so far as to try and pry off a piece of their old masters, if it not for them who pulled them away so that the others could, wives and children cried as they were killed by the mob that was once under their whip, their _screams would stay to Karlon until his death_.

"Was it the right thing to do?" he asks the king who looks at him with those same indifferent eyes that he stared at the magisters and the Prince of Pentos.

"Our people must always come first" Ar-Gimilthôn simply replies and then proceeded to walk towards the Prince's manse, "after the battle I had let a part of my fleet to observe the developments on this conquered nation's borders" he said as once more they had found themselves at the once solar of the ruler of the city where guards were stationed at the entrance and also on every corner.

"Your grace" Pallando greets him along with the Variag, Chagatai, as Ar-Gimilthôn sat at the head of the table that was once owned by the prince of Pentos. "The stores of grain in Pentos is almost empty, as much as our men would like to take the last of those stored in the granary and march to where the Myrish are we can't risk leaving a hungry people that would revolt and undo all the work that we had done" the wizened old man said as his Variag companion also agreed with him.

"The Blue one is right my king, unless we open the ports and have them receive supplies that we had at Mithkadar then we can leave the city with the grain stores and march to the cities" _food the bane of all armies_, Karlon thought as he looks at the king of the Numenoreans who pondered at the news, before looking at Karlon.

"Do you have any suggestions captain?" he asks as Karlon looks at the man incredulously.

"Surely your grace will not take an advice to a bastard, and a mercenary captain" he said, after all they were here to help them have a land of their own and as much as he loathes the lack of looting and ravaging in the city, he respects the Numenoreans due to the fact that they have had victory after victory.

"Well I am asking you now, your company along with the Wolf Pack had been instrumental so far, so I would welcome your counsel just as I welcomed your friend's counsel the other night" Ar-Gimilthôn simply said as Karlon took a deep breath.

"We could lessen the strain on the city by arming some of the newly freed slaves and the poor and have them fight with us" he said as the whole room seem suddenly interested at him, "train them the basics of soldiering then have them march with us to the field, we can use some of them to replenish our numbers as well" he said and Ar-Gimilthôn looks at Pallando and Chagatai.

"That is a good idea although that would also weaken the quality of our men" Pallando states as the king nods.

"But it would also secure themselves as ones who fought for their freedom and could secure their loyalty to us" Chagatai remarks as all of them turns to the final authority in the whole affair, the king himself who began to rub his chin, deep in thought, it was afternoon now, the hot sun putting a sweat on Karlon's forehead, _had we talked the whole day after taking the city? _He thought as Ar-Gimilthôn was about to say anything when a Numenorean rushes in the manse.

"My king we had news concerning the movements of the Myrish, they have now marched into Pentoshi territory but they are slow with a baggage train with them" the man said as Ar-Gimilthôn stood up.

"How many?"

"About three to five thousand not including the one hundred in their baggage train, although they are marching with a mercenary company with a broken sword as a banner numbering about two thousand not including the baggage train of two hundred" _Myrish army marching with the Second sons_, Karlon thought as Ar-Gimilthôn's eyes turn to Pallando and Chagatai.

"How many of us all remained after the siege?"

"About six thousand, seven if you include the Azrazairs your grace" Pallando answers as Ar-Gimilthôn sighs and then looks at Karlon.

"I would let my officers help you in training the freed slaves about the basics of fighting, do not disappoint me captain" the king said as he stood up and then removed his crown, _what is he doing? _Karlon thought as Pallando and Chagatai bowed to him.

"We shall send a contingent of our forces to reinforce Mithkadar, Alatar had just driven out a Dothraki Khalassar at its gates during our march to Pentos last week" Pallando said as the king approves of it.

"You do that, my wife, Lyssandra has been terrified when the Dothraki came to our doorsteps, she had been sending me a letter to return quickly"

As the king was about to leave the manse, Karlon stops him "where are you going your grace?" he asks as Ar-Gimilthôn smiles at him.

"Before I was a king, captain, I was a ranger, I will lead a contingent of rangers and try to screen their forces until we meet them properly on the field of battle" the absoluteness of the king's voice said it all as he left the room, each of his footsteps bore confidence in it _as if he was already ruling over us_.

* * *

_**Mithkadar**_

Alatar is ordering the men to take what they can of the remains of the Dothraki camp and take the horses for themselves, _the Dothraki had been confident thinking that they can trap us within the walls, if only they had calculated that we can pull a sortie while they feast and fornicate_, Alatar still remembers the Khalassar encamped outside of Mithkadar all of them singing songs in their guttural language that reminded him of the language of those in Mordor in their campfires not even knowing the men that are sneaking to them slitting the throats of drunk and busy guards and before they know it the trap has been sprung.

Alatar took a hundred men to their garrison of four hundred to achieve such a feat and even more astonishing is that they suffered no casualties except for some wounds, scratches and bites from the captured women and children, the wives and children of the Dothraki men, all of which can be healed, The slaughter of the camp never ended until the sun rises and there was only the cries and groans of widows and orphans as well as dying men. "I want an inventory to be given to me once we go back" he orders one of the officers who nodded in confirmation.

"Yes Istari"

"Burn all the bodies of the savages and let us be done here" he said as the fires began to be started and he and the men began to go back to their settlement with a fanfare from the garrison as well as a welcome from the king's family.

"Istari! Istari!" Palantir calls as the boy went towards him alongside his friend, Börte, Alatar knelt to them greeting the two young ones much to the smiles of the crown that was finally relieved of the savages outside the makeshift fortifications of the settlement.

Alatar smiles and then ruffles both children's head before turning to Ar-Gimilthôn's wife, Lyssandra, "your grace we had managed to drive out the Dothraki" he said as the woman smiles in relief, while Alatar presents the loot and captives that they had taken from the camp of the Khalassar "we would like to present you these spoils and also captives that we had taken to the savages" he said as everyone from the settlement looks upon it.

Lyssandra didn't know what to say as she looks at the loot and captives, "I don't know what to say Istari?" she whispers to Alatar who decides to help the woman.

"Your grace just say that you accept it" he simply said as Lyssandra smiles awkwardly at the gathered crowd, _she was not meant for royalty_, Alatar thought but she had married into royalty and so she would have to endure it.

"We accept such spoils that we had won through victory, through my family that you had saved I thank you" she simply said as everyone cheered, the loot was inventoried while the captives were kept on a makeshift prison, wherein the king of the Ar-Adûnâim would have to determine what to do with them, as slavery of any form is illegal in accordance to their agreement with Braavos, despite the machinations that they did they are still allies for now. They would have to await the arrival of Ar-Gimilthôn who will decide what to do with the captives.

The hall of the king that was once a large tent nearby the new Nimloth is now made of wood and stone, it was the first thing to be built on a raised Motte, some of the ships particularly the ones sailed by those who cannot fight had to be scuppered for such to be possible, a small market was also raised as well on the ports of the now thriving settlement attracting merchants not just from Braavos, but also from other nations as well.

_And yet we have a long ways to go yet_, Alatar thought as he stood with the queen who is now welcoming petitioners and well-wishers in her husband's court, alongside with Palantir and Börte, and also the twins, Bêlzagar and Azrâindil, who were both being attended by a nurse. "My queen, I give praise to your husband and your people, long live Ar-Gimilthôn and his people the Ar-Adûnâim but please here of my petition" said a man who looks like a Westerosi if not for his dark hair and tanned skin bowing.

"Stand and speak good man we shall hear your words" Queen Lyssandra said as the man did so and looked at her directly in the eye.

"I am Rego Mopatis, my queen, a poor merchant in your newly conquered city of Pentos, I have come here as a supplicant to beg of your grace to please provide me and some of my colleagues a small restitution for the damages done to our businesses in the city after the siege and the riots that come to be called as the Glorious day of Liberation" the man began bowing lowly to the queen, "as much as we support your cause alongside the now freed slaves it is not just the rich and the powerful of the city that was damaged by the siege and the riots but also the businesses of small merchants like me"

Alatar looks at the man before them now, the man surely looked poor base on his stance and his clothing which was cleaned so as to look formal in front of the court, _appearances can look deceiving_, Alatar reminded himself as he remembers the wars that happened on Middle-earth because of Sauron deceiving Celebrimbor into forging the rings of power. "You say you support our cause and yet like you said before you are a merchant of the city, and therefore a slave owner" Lyssandra said as the man quickly knelt in front of her.

"My queen, my family and I along with my colleagues and their families were not slave owners some of us couldn't even afford a slave, some of us were spice, bread, and grain traders, I was a cheese maker and trader before the siege, as much as some of us can provide to buy a human life we have never participated in such a horrendous act" the man produced papers and then presented it to Lyssandra who looks at Alatar who took it and then read the papers sifting through its letters then finding that these were ledgers and statements of accounts.

"It says here your grace all of their accounts that they do not participate in the slave trade of Pentos" Alatar said as the queen nods and he returns the papers to Rego.

"My father always tells me that a work of a slave is always inferior to that of a free man, so therefore all men must be freed so that they can produce quality work, he and the predecessors of my colleagues had always protested against the slave trade until your coming" the man then bows deeply his head touching the ground "as much as we would like to continue support your cause in creating a kingdom of your own, we cannot fight with swords in hand" Rego said as he lifts his head.

"As much as we would like to give you the restitution that you seek, I am afraid as we are at war we cannot just hand it out to you unless we beggar ourselves" Alatar states as the man felt despaired by the words "although we can provide a loan to you and your colleagues so that you may rebuild your businesses in the hopes that you may repay us in the future" Rego could only stare at the Istari in amazement, surely there was more to his words.

"I am sure that this gracious loan has to have a pledge of some sort" Alatar had to give it to the man to notice that such a thing need surety.

"Of course there is good man, as every loan there should be a surety so that we can be sure that you will pay your the loan we had just gave you" he said as Lyssandra nods to the Istari's words and Rego seem to approve of it as he looks behind him and then stands.

"Then my queen, my lord, I would like to present to you me and my colleagues' children" when he said it the door was opened and many children burst into the hall, some of them in their early teens while others were being carried by wet nurses.

_They are going to give us their children as surety_, Alatar thought as Rego introduces first his children, Illyrioh and Allyriah, who were both eight and ten respectively, then the names of his colleagues' children. Alatar looks at the queen who seem to be caught off-guard by such an act of sacrifice by merchants and parents "we are ready to give up our children as surety for this loan my queen, not because that it is the only way to have money but because we want them to come to a home that can prepare them food that we ourselves prepared"

"Mother?" Phazân-Palantir approaches his mother who now had a tear on her eye, "is there something wrong mother?" he asks as Queen Lyssandra quickly removed the tears on her eyes and the whole court was shook as well as touched by such an act.

"I am fine Palantir, I am fine" she said, _for she was once a slave and knows what its like to being sold and given up as if you are cattle_, Alatar quickly saw a look from the queen who nods and he quickly took over the discussion.

"We will not separate babes to their mothers, however..." Alatar looks at the children who were close to being teens as well as those of the same age as Palantir and Börte "...we would take as a surety the children who are of the same age or above of the Phazân-Palantir" he said as Rego bows his head kissing the ground.

"We thank you for this graciousness and long may you all reign!"

* * *

_**Pentoshi borderlands**_

Aegor adjusted the bag on his back along with the billhook he was holding they had marched alongside the Myrish army for a three days now raiding the small villages and farmstead despite the fact that they were property of the Pentoshi magisters that they had to help and not those of the enemy, _the Ar-Adûnâim_, Aegor gripped the polearm tightly as he remembers the Ar-Adûnâim and their actions at the Redgrass fields, the Numenorean arrows that pierced them as they tried to overtake them only for them to fall into a trap, _Daemon should have won_, Aegor grunts as he took a deep breath, calming himself and then continued marching along the men.

It had been easy signing up to the Second sons, one of the oldest of the free companies of Essos, as there was no precedent on how to be a member you just have to look for a promoter of the company, he had bid Rohanne and her children goodbye before joining the company in the attempt of driving out the Numenoreans back to the sea. Shouts remove him from his reminiscent of memories.

"Fire! Fire!" Came the cry as Aegor began to hear the familiar whistle of arrows, _Numenorean _arrows hitting their mark.

"Second sons form up! Form up!" Captain Rodrik Pyke orders as he began to rally the men towards their baggage train they didn't reach their supplies being burnt to the ground and their captives and attendants slaughtered, the only mark left was the well-made arrows of the Numenoreans, "gods damn them!" Captain Rodrik snarls as he wheels his horse, "I want extra guards on our baggage train, if any of you slacks I will personally tore your eyes out!" he barks an order to his lieutenant, weaselly man named Harwyn Frey, a fellow Westerosi unlike Rodrik who is a bastard of a Volantene slattern and an Ironborn.

"Yes Captain Rodrik!" the man said although the voice lacks any enthusiasm or initiative, _a Westerosi through and through_, Aegor thought as Harwyn being of a noble house despite being a son of a second or third son always looked down on anyone they deemed as unworthy.

The next day came and they were about to link up with the Myrish army when once again they were attacked this time it was on them, "Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" came the cries of the Adûnâim as their arrows flew and hit the unsuspecting company.

"Shields! Shields! Raise your fucking shields!" Aegor yelled as he took cover on his own tall shield, while those who didn't have the time to do so became soft targets of the Numenorean arrows.

"Stay back keep to yourselves don't chase them!" but Aegor's words were for naught as the men decided to give chase breaking from their formation, _fools! _Whether it be sword, spear, or bow, a Numenorean is deadly to those weapons particularly to those that have never fought them before, "don't give chase you fools!" he shouts as he pulls a man back to the line.

"Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" came the cry from their backs as before they could turn they were struck down by a another hail of arrows and before they could recover a charge took them by surprise.

Aegor drew his sword as he began to try and cut down as many of the enemy as he could but was surprised when his blade was parried by a tall Adûnâim who didn't hesitate in making a counter-thrust which the Riverlands bastard dodged, the man then turns and then slashes an enemy, and before the tall Adûnâim knew it, a comrade of Aegor had tried to grab him by his head if only to catch his hood, revealing the familiar features of an Adûnâim.

Black hair and beard, and also grey eyes and a long face, Aegor knows of the man that was now making short work of his comrades. Ar-Gimilthôn stood and moved as if he were a water flowing in the rocks as he effortlessly dodged and parried his opponents blows, before making a counter at a man foolish enough to try and catch him unawares, a mistake they paid dearly with their lives "Ki-yadahê!" he cries as he pulls out a horn and then blows it three times before they ran on the opposite direction of their attack, "Ki-yadahê!" came the return calls of the other Adûnâim as they began to retreat.

It was dusk when they managed to connect with the Myrish forces, Aegor followed Captain Rodrick towards the luxurious tent of the Myrish general where an Adûnâim captive was in front of him, the man simply looked at the Myrish general, Aresso Vynaar, "there is only one way where this could go, my friend" the Myrish said as he drinks a wine from his goblet "we will let you and your people go, if you just tell me any information that can help" the Adûnâim simply spat on the ground.

Before any guards could react the man thrust his right hand on the central brazier that was at the center of the tent "I am but one of many that will defeat you if you come to our way!" the man snarls, his bastard Valyrian perfect and without any trace of accent, as he then produces a knife as before every man could react the man then quickly plunges it to his heart and then twisting it for good measure.

"I die for my king, and my people!" he said as he finally breath his last much to the surprise and frustration of everyone at the tent, even Captain Rodrik himself was shaken by the act.

"These are no mere men" said an adviser, "they are beasts!" everyone agrees as the dead man was dragged out of the tent and Aegor felt a chill to his spine as he remembers the events that happened.

* * *

**Author's note: concerning the acts of killing the local nobility of Pentos and also the taking of the small merchants' children as hostages, like I said before; the Ar-Adûnâim are neutral in their concept of international relations, they aren't good like the Elendili/the Faithful or outright evil as the Black Numenoreans, and yes historically such things has been done (ie the Mongols whenever they invade a country) since the local nobility wouldn't help a conqueror in securing power for themselves and would be a problem later on, it is better so to speak to kill and get rid of them before they could make a problem, whereas in Persian and Sassanid empires taking vassal's children as hostage has always been a way to secure loyalty and even influence them to an empire's advantage, so yeah it is cruel but at the same time it is efficient.**

**Now concerning Rego Mopatis and his children Illyrioh and Allyriah Mopatis, the Illyrioh that is now isn't the Illyrioh of canon but rather his great grandfather or grandfather, I don't know how to count generations but yeah this ain't the canon Illyrioh but rather a namesake.**

**The Numenorean that thrust his hand to a brazier is a nod to a Roman story concerning the siege of Rome by the Etruscans where a youth was caught trying to assassinate the king besieging the city, and when asked whether or not are there more assassins that will attack the king, the youth just thrust his hand to a bronze brazier saying that he is just one of those many, which scared the king off to retreat so yeah, that's all there is concerning the whole chapter and also I would have to continue my other story so yeah this my update for now.**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


	5. Ar-Gimilthôn V

**_Braavos_**

_What forces have we all just unleashed_, the Sealord thought as he watched his children play at the gardens of the Sealord's palace. They had expected for the Numenoreans to be driven out, perhaps exterminated by the Pentoshi, in all accounts despite a set back it would remove a threat while weaken the other, what they didn't expect however was for them to make a short work of their neighbor and rival as well as create a new kingdom for themselves, a settled threat that is far more dangerous than a threat that is sea bound. "Sealord Ferrego we had won against the Pentoshi fleet that was sent against us" a messenger from the fleet they had sent to support the Ar-Adûnâim after when Pentos had declared war against them.

"That is good news indeed, although it seems we had exchanged a kitten to a snake as a neighbor" _and I fear when will that snake strike us when our usefulness to them has run its course_, it was a current dilemma that they have now, with a nod of thanks to the messenger for the good news he went to the council chambers where the council discusses the current progress of their war with Pentos while also talking on how to deal with the Numenoreans and the new city they had established north of Pentos.

In good faith, their king, Ar-Gimilthôn, had sent the heads of the Prince and also the magisters of Pentos much to the disgust and horror of the council of Braavos, _it was a gift and also a warning_, Ferrego thought as he began to let the pages open the doors of the halls.

"When you say that we would be killing two birds with one stone, this is not what we had expected!" a council member cries out to the representative of Iron Bank, "the Ar-Adûnâim had established themselves and not only had they made short work of the Pentoshi, from what our spies reported they seem to be whittling down the mercenary forces we sent with them, by having the companies fight on the front lines or where the fighting is thickest from last we had heard, the Ar-Adûnâim seem to be of the same number as before" Illynoh Hennah had to face the brunt of the politics of the council, _not that I envy him at the very least_.

"Council members! The Sealord has arrived to seat in the proceedings!" came the call of the herald as the council stood and acknowledged him.

"I had just received word from the fleet that we had sent they had defeated the Pentoshi fleet at sea and Admiral Sallor Thorys will arrive in two days with his fleet leaving the Adûnâim to consolidate their gains after Pentos' capitulation and destruction" there was now discussion as to what extent the Numenoreans would carve their territory.

"Can we ask for the Ar-Adûnâim to give us the hills of Andalos as recognition of our assistance to them?" a council member asked as Ferrego had to bite back a laugh, _they are not going to give up the hills that easily without provoking them into a fight_, he remembered the reports of his border patrols of a series of forts and a beacon system being built at the hills of Andalos by freed slaves under orders of the Adûnâim.

"That would be like asking a snake to barf out his food"

"Nor can we even ask them to give us any money in payment of our assistance to them" Illynoh states as the council began to calm but still tense, "it is out of good faith that we gave the money, it is not in any sense a loan that we often give to other Free cities and kingdoms"

"Since when did the Iron Bank do deals out of good faith?" a council member mocked and it resulted in an argument.

"Like you have any right to question the bank!" before the argument could descend into a brawl the pages began to beat their staffs on the ground while the other pages pulled the two sides of the council away.

"Then there is also a problem with the Myrish" Illynoh said as Ferrego remembers the reports of Myrish military intervention to Pentos numbering seven thousand both the levy and the mercenary company march with them, _both Myr and Pentos have been conflicting with the fertile lands of their borders_, obviously with the defeat of Pentos, Myr would waste no time in trying to defeat the Numenoreans while also take the fertile borderlands of Pentos.

_And if possible overtake Pentos completely and be a torn to our side_, Ferrego could only support the Adûnâim to defeat them before they could ask for anything to them "the Myrish has currently sent a delegation concerning their march to Pentos, they had asked us to not meddle with their _affairs _and demand we support them in driving out the Adûnâim" Ferrego said and his words cause an uproar from the council once more as the pages began to slam their staffs on the ground asking for them all to be silent.

"The last reports we have were that the Ar-Adûnâim are marching to meet up against the Myrish at the Flatlands" the report was already a week ago and no one knows whether it was a misdirection by Ar-Gimilthôn or a truly offensive act by the Numenoreans to prevent a siege in Pentos but still it was remarkable at how they acted decisively or rather how their king acted decisively "council members, the only thing we can do is wait for the results of the battle and act on it before either side that wins could do so" Ferrego would have to send a force to create a fort at the tip of the Rhoynar so to prevent a further expansion of the Adûnâim, it was a disputed part with Norvos but Braavos would always have to come above, _if they were to survive from this monster, we ourselves had created_.

* * *

**_The Flatlands_**

Ar-Gimilthôn observes the lands outside of the city of Pentos called the Flatlands, across the field were three divisions of cavalry arrayed at the front in a wedge formation, heavy cavalry that can charge and scatter them all with one swoop. The Adûnâim numbered seven thousand, five hundred now, this includes the armed freed slaves, the mercenary companies, and also the Variag cataphracts, the Myrish had six thousand, half of them were levies and professional citizen soldiers of Myr while the other half were the Second Sons all of which are heavy cavalry at their center alongside with the Myrish nobles.

They have an advantage in numbers but the quality of their troops goes against them as brave and desperate are the freed slaves is when battles are long and hard then their spirit will break like any lesser men, the Myrish had also a disadvantage of their own, days of harassing their baggage train has forced them to abandon them and make a rapid march towards Pentos believing that they are going force the Adûnâim to a siege at the city. _They didn't expect us to march and fight them_, Ar-Gimilthôn thought as Pallando went next to his side.

"Everything is in position your grace" the Istari said as the king of the Ar-Adûnâim nods and then meets up with his men who all looks up to him expectantly, there was no talks _they are already beyond it all when I killed their emissaries_.

_Like children looking up to their parents when they were young and full of life_, how long has it been since their arrival on this world, how long has it been since the death of his brother and father at the black walls of Volantis, he was scared and lost like their men as they had lost a king, a father, and a brother, _I didn't know what to do then, until I held Palantir in my arms and I saw Lyssandra's smile_, they were lost on a new world cut off from the homelands founded by Numenor, the great island that fell, now here on this battlefield will determine whether or not they are worthy of a new homeland, whether or not the House of Ar-Pharazôn can once more prosper and leave a mark on this new world for themselves.

Ar-Gimilthôn stood tall among his men as everyone gathered to him "we are not men today, right now we are all but beasts! Some of you may fight for wealth, for glory, for freedom, for family I care not who or what you fight for as long as you fight!" every man began to beat their shields in cheers as he began to stand alongside them and prepare for the battle that was to come.

Their center was a rabble that consist of the remains of both Wolf Pack and Company of the Rose, alongside them were the freed slaves trained by Captain Karlon on the basics of soldiering, he didn't expect the center to hold but rather he expected them to be flexible and lure the enemy in between the two ruined manses where they would be fell upon by Abrazanim Nardubawib and Rozadan troops hidden in those manses that will trap them and cut them from any reserve cavalry they have on their flanks, then two leagues of the right manse are Chagatai's Variag cataphracts, their only heavy cavalry, while at three leagues of the left manse are a freed slave skirmisher cavalry, the task of the cavalry was to drive off any enemy cavalry reserves while also fully envelope the enemy once all of them had been trapped between the two manses.

The Myrish horns blared and the enemy began to trot towards their center, slowly at first and then they were already close to their lines the enemy cavalry went full gallop then came the crashing of horses on steel, it was a struggle first as both the freed slaves and the mercenaries buckled upon the force of the cavalry charge then they began to whittle away and then a horn sounded their retreat as the freed slaves first tuck tail and ran with the sellswords defending their retreat before breaking and the cavalry began to flow like water to a leaking dam, between the wide field that separated the two manses Ar-Gimilthôn had ordered his rangers to set up traps and anti-cavalry spikes, as the cavalry began to give chase the horses that gave them advantage began to hinder them as the spikes and traps either killed the horses or forced them all to dismount.

As hours passed on the battlefield Ar-Gimilthôn saw the Myrish infantry following the cavalry ignoring any semblance of order as they began to give chase to an enemy that was easily defeated in their eyes, _let them taste victory_, he thought as he began to look at a drummer "let them have it" he orders as the man beside him began to beat the drums and the whole Myrish army were surprised when arrows flew on every side and between the two manses began to be occupied by halberd wielding infantry that closed any rout of escape on their sides, he put on his helm as he quickly called on his men "on me!"

"Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" The heavy thud of boots came as Ar-Gimilthôn marched towards the frail center reinforcing it as halberds began to array and close in to the now compacted Myrish who tried to break through on all sides only to be cut down by halberds or shot at by arrows, at the end of the killing field Ar-Gimilthôn saw that some of the sellsword cavalry of the Myrish began to retreat, some successfully running away before the Ar-Adûnâim cavalry began to position themselves on the backs of the whole Myrish army who noticed them and were now panicking as they tried to form a line on their rear but it was too late as the Ar-Adûnâim cavalry crashed through them fully closing the bottle and winning the field.

As the day began to fall for night the king of the Numenoreans could only acknowledge the field before him and consider the cost of victory as the last of the enemy began to drop their swords and every officer of the Myrish army began to call for their surrender, and their victorious armies began to cry out in joy, _never before has a victory be this hollow_, Ar-Gimilthôn thought as everyone began to look around the field, looting the enemy dead while also recovering their own and upon an open spot were two bodies dead side by side, Captains Karlon Snow and Willem Hornwood.

_This is the price of your victory_, a voice behind him said as Ar-Gimilthôn watched his men collect the dead mercenaries alongside their attendants who helped identify them base on their heraldry while also killing any injured enemy that was beyond saving, _your people after all comes first before them_.

* * *

**_The Flatlands_**

Aegor had warned them about this and it was only his captain who listened while those magisters of Myr only mocked him and called him a coward, _they have never faced the Ar-Adûnâim before_, he spat as he remembers being stationed on the right flank of the infantry by Captain Rodrik alongside Harwyn Frey who didn't even scout their side of the battlefield where a freed slave cavalry was positioned opposite them, _he hadn't even divided our cavalry to face their cavalry on_, if the idiot of the Frey had any brains on his skull then he would know that on their left where a heavy cavalry contingent of the enemy was placed with no challenge and allowed them to quickly run around and attack them on their unprotected backs.

_I barely escaped_, Aegor remembers when an arrow struck Harwyn from behind by an arrow and before they knew it the heavy cavalry that was on their left now struck them from behind while their light cavalry struck them on the front, it was a nightmare as chaos descended upon them and his group began to scatter and flee.

"This is a disgrace!" came a cry of one of the knights that rode with him upon fleeing. They were far away now from the battlefield, scattered from the four corners of Essos because of the defeat at the battle of Flatlands, the only thing that Aegor could do was go back to Tyrosh and think of what he would do next, _rather than stay here and die_.

"I'd rather be a disgrace than be a dead fool!" Aegor shouts as he looks at the remainder of the cavalry with him, _why am I leading these fools? _He should be back at Westeros leading an army against the Targaryens, _helping my nephews to reclaim their rightful place that is on the Iron Throne_, he never forgot the promise he made to Rohanne, wife of Daemon Blackfyre.

"Where are we going anyway?" came the question of one of the knights with them and judging from the man's too ostentatious gilded armor, a Reachlander, _probably a second son of some sworn knight or lord_, Aegor thought bitterly as he looks at the man.

"To Tyrosh" he simply replied, "I am done with the Second sons" he said but then hesitated to leave the men on their own after fleeing the battlefield, _they may prove to be useful_, Aegor thought as he looks at the man "if you want you can fight with me and put a rightful king on the Iron Throne"

The Reachlander's eyes went wide as he looks at the man with realization on his eyes, "you are Aegor Rivers, knight of the Blackfyres" _no not a knight, just a man that serves the rightful heirs of Daemon_, Aegor thought as the man nods "if you would swear that I could also claim my family keep then I will fight with you" he was then followed by others of their party, all of them hedge knights and from far off lines of lords and landed knights.

"Aye I would help you with your claim and promise that every one of you will be given lands for your service to the rightful heirs of Daemon Blackfyre" he declares as the Reachlander approaches him.

"I am Oswell Peake and my sword is now to the Blackfyres" Oswell declares as he dismounted and then drew his sword then gave it to Aegor who took it and then gave it back to the man.

"Rise Ser Oswell Peake knight of the Blackfyre cause" _this is but the __beginning_, Aegor thought as he began to see himself on many battles that is to come from Essos then to Westeros, to the rightful place of House Blackfyre, the Iron Throne.

* * *

**_197 after Aegon's Conquest_**

After a peace was settled to Myr, it was a long victorious march back to Mithkadar and they arrived at the settlement greeted by Alatar and also by Ar-Gimilthôn's family, Palantir and Lyssandra who held the twins in their arms and behind them were the people who began to kneel to Ar-Gimilthôn as they arrived "hail to the king!" they all cried as the king dismounts his horse and then approaches his family.

"Have you been brave Palantir?" Ar-Gimilthôn asks of the boy who nods and he could only smile and then turn his attention to his wife and also to the boys siblings, "and how are the twins my queen?" he asks as Lyssandra lets him carry the two who began to gurgle and then coo.

"They are well behaved although they seem to miss their father greatly" she said as the two kissed, before handing back the twins.

Ar-Gimilthôn then turns his attention to the cheering people calling all of them to stand "against all odds we have won, as much as this is a day of cheer and good will, let it also be a day of remembrance and mourning" he stands aside as his men began to present the bodies of mercenary captains Karlon Snow and Willem Hornwood, "they fought for pay as mercenaries but the blood that they had spilled has made them and their people a part of us"

Mithkadar also housed the families and servants of the two mercenary companies that fought with them on the campaign, as all of their menfolk are dead fighting for the Ar-Adûnâim it is only right to ask for them to be a part of the new kingdom "families and servants of both the Company of the Rose and the Wolf Pack, I offer you a choice you can be a part of this kingdom we had both worked hard to create or you may return back to Westeros, to a home you have never seen before" chests of gold and silver and other rare gems were then presented, a payment that is worth more than a king's ransom enough for a man to live his days until he is old and grey.

"These are the wages your husbands, brothers, and sons would have received now we give it to you all in recognition of their service, and for those who wish to go back to Westeros, my ships has offered a free one way passage where you shall be landed on a town called White Harbor and there you can live your lives with the wages that would have received by your family" no one from the families of the mercenaries move for a minute then two as Ar-Gimilthôn waited for a response from them.

Some of them had begun to cry as more bodies began to be presented to them. A woman carrying a babe pushes herself in front of the crowd and when she saw the bodies particularly of that of the mercenary captains, she goes to the place at the side of Willem and then begun to cry "oh Willem!" she cries out as she fell on her knees while at the same time letting her babe look at her father "oh Willem! What would happen to me and your babe?! You promised!" she shouts to no one in particular as some of the women began to approach her and try to console her and also take the babe away from her hands to prevent any harm from coming to the child in her moment of grief.

"You promised that we will go home to Westeros and we would live on a castle in the North! Willem! Oh Willem!" her cries were rather infectious as the surroundings became solemn and the king decided to approach her.

"He was a brave man, if anything were to know his final thoughts then his final thoughts were of yours" Ar-Gimilthôn said as he gave his hand for the woman to stand, "your name my lady?"

"Kayla Hornwood, once a daughter of a clam seller now a widow with a son that is better off as a bastard should we go back to Westeros" he offered his arms for the woman to cry on, "and he hasn't even given his only son a name" Kayla cried as Ar-Gimilthôn gestured for the woman who is holding her son to give the boy to him.

Grey eyes meet with black as the king looks at the small child, _Palantir_, the boy reminds him off as his eyes turn to his son who seem to be expecting something from him "He has his father's eyes" Ar-Gimilthôn said presenting the child to his mother, "he shall be like a son to me, but in return he shall become a steward and servant to my heirs and their heirs for all of his life and also his children who shall also serve me and mine, Arnubên shall he be called and may he know how brave his father is at the face of death" he declares to everyone as he gives the child back to his mother.

"You do not need to worry my lady, you and your son shall be provided for in exchange to the services of your husband"

"Old gods and new bless you, your grace! Bless you!" she said as he called for his soldiers to escort the woman to their hall, the dead were then given the proper funerary rites, burned and their ashes collected on urns, Ar-Gimilthôn himself collected the ashes of both captains of the now disbanded mercenary companies, an act of self-humility that no man or even king would do for a scoundrel much less a mercenary.

"Heavy is he that wears a crown" Alatar said as Pallando looks at his friend and brother-in-arms, "an old saying from the Variag steppes, didn't you know that all crowns were supposed to be heavy and uncomfortable there, its to remind their khands that he has a lot of responsibilities"

"We have already accomplished our task brother" Pallando said as he lean on his staff.

"I agree, the Variags that opposed Sauron is out of his grasp, and the Ar-Adûnâim had succeeded in creating a kingdom for themselves" Alatar said as he looked at the pyres that were now dying down, "albeit with a lot of bloodshed that is" as they talk a strong northerly wind began to blow fiercely on their direction, snuffing out the last of the funeral pyres and sending a chill down on the two Istari's skin.

"Something is stirring north of this world brother" Pallando said and Alatar could only agree as they escorted the king back to his halls where a feast had been prepared for them and where the king would appoint his peers of positions to a new kingdom that was formed, while also greet the many emissaries and courtiers from every corner of the world. The two Istari didn't participate in the feast but rather spent their time on a personal room built for them by the king where they discuss many things from the meaning of their arrival in this world that is beyond the Valar's reach to the _thing_ that they felt was stirring north of the world.

* * *

**_Mithkadar, 199 after Aegon's conquest_**

The Istari are leaving for north of the world for some unknown reason, they had already helped Chagatai's people away from the grasp of Sauron, and so their task is complete and they had to wander once more and learn of the world they are in now. Palantir is saddened to see them go but his father had understood and had tried to give them gifts and also passage, the first they refused outright the second they accepted thanking his father who could only escort them towards the spot where the poor copy of the Nimloth stands, slowly growing into a tree.

_It was still a sapling moons ago when Börte and I planted it_, the willow tree isn't yet large that he can rest on its shade but it was growing and thriving, like the kingdom that his father had built, _growing and thriving_. Many days, weeks, and moons had passed his father had begun a construction of a town at the Rhoyne while also grant Braavos passage with less taxes on their products, much to his irritation, he had began to distribute farmlands towards those freed slaves that fought with the Adûnâim and also send emissaries across the known world that the kingdom of the Adûnâim exists and is open to diplomacy.

"I could order you to stay" his father said once more as the two Istari turns to him, "but I know that you two are not even bound to my laws or even my words, I could only give thanks to your assistance and send you off to wherever it is you are going" he said as the two Istari smiles.

"Your grace you have been doing well by yourself in the past years, you have created a home for your people as well as Chagatai's, no one could have even achieved anything as you did" Pallando said as Alatar approaches both him and Palantir.

He had been doing well aside from a strain in the relationship between him and Braavos when they asked him to ease restrictions on all of their products that they would sell while also setting a cap on what the kingdom of the Adûnâim produces and sells, Palantir remembers his father gripping the throne so hard that it almost snaps when a representative of the Iron Bank and Braavos began to make demands of him in recognition of their help to create his kingdom. A delegation from Westeros was sent to their court as well.

_They asked for father to release the rebuilt Pentos in the name of their friendship_, a request that Ar-Gimilthôn scoffed and sent the delegates back with a scathing but not too hostile of a message, _to fix their own affairs before meddling on others_, there had been new tensions once more at Westeros, the kings of that uncomfortable chair had been fighting small rebellions, remnants of the Blackfyre supporters as well as rumors of their return across the narrow sea, what with Aegor Rivers gathering exiles and adventuring knights to fight for the Blackfyre cause and the fact that a branch of the Rogare Bank of Lys in Tyrosh is funding their exploits.

"Before we go Phazân, your grace, we have a gift to you two" Alatar said as before father and son could respond the Istari touched their shoulders, _what is the gift? _Palantir thought as the blue wizard looked directly on his eyes and everything went black.

Palantir began to see his vision turn as he saw the willow tree now white where children play around its shade and a man that looked like him stood on the side watching with a smile, the young Phazân turns to his side then saw his father was also looking at it with tears on his eyes, then they left when a woman that looked like a grown Börte called them, and then Palantir saw himself an old man and a young man presenting him a babe, a girl and tells him of the woman's name and to which he smiles sadly, then Palantir saw that same young man now standing tall and grim giving a farewell kiss on the forehead to his son who his garbed for war all of it happening underneath a statue of Ar-Gimilthôn and Ar-Palantir looking down on them.

The whole gift of the Istari ended as both father and son turn towards the willow tree and then saw that its skin has grown white and a fragrant scent began to spread on it, they then turn towards the direction of the two Istari only to find that they had already departed, _thank you for the gift Istari_, Palantir thought. Ar-Gimilthôn looks to Phazân Palantir and both of them smiled as they went back to the halls with a smile on their faces, the sun was already setting when the sails of ships began to let loose and the winds blew on it taking the two Istari wherever they were going.

* * *

**_Winterfell, some time later_**

Rickard Stark watched as two old men wearing blue robes underneath their heavy pelts meet with his father once more, these were the famed Istari, blue wizards that had helped the Numenoreans settle on what was once Pentos, many tales had been told of them after their assistance to the kingdom of the Adûnâim, tales of their travels north and south of Essos, of how they forced the Dothraki to heel when they attacked the Lhazareen, to even their travels beyond the Wall which they negotiated with the Lord Commander and lord father to allow the settling of wildlings to the Gift.

_Much to lord father's irritation_, Rickard remembers as before the Lord Stark could voice his dissent the two Istari only told him that the wildlings can provide an excellent fodder for the Night's Watch in the defense of the realm. Rickard also once would want to travel to see the many lands of the world, _if only baby Brandon had not died_, now he was here on Winterfell learning how to become lord like his father and his fathers before him.

"I have received message from Lord Manderly concerning your insistence for him to accept another group of wildlings in White Harbor" his lord father said as the two Istari just looked at him as if he were not the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North but some insect they are studying, Lord Edwyle Stark sighs "I understand the need to prepare for this _thing _beyond the Wall but I cannot just let you two prance around my lands and berate any lord or two into accepting wildlings to their lands"

"_Refugees_ my lord" the stress Alatar puts on the word could only make the Lord of Winterfell surrender, "if we may correct the Lord Manderly he is not just going to house freefolk but also children of the forest" Rickard's father turned to them now interested, "and they seem to have an interesting tale to tell" the other Istari finishes.

"Children of the forest?" Lord Stark states as he slumped on his chair and then began to chuckle "ha ha ha that is incredible! What next oh wizened old men? That the giants are also coming with the wildlings" but still both the Istari had their own serious gazes that chilled Rickard.

"I assure you my lord that what we say is true, you might receive a word from your maester..." as if on signal, their maester quickly burst into the door bearing a message most assuredly from White Harbor and when Lord Edwyle Stark looked and read the letter it chilled him.

"Gods old and new" his lord father could only remark as he quickly put the letter on the table, "even if there is a threat beyond the Wall we cannot just call on the south for the whole realm to march against it, that would take a lot of work"

"We are not asking you to march beyond the Wall and confront the threat my lord" Pallando said as he look at Rickard's lord father, "we are only asking you to prepare for the coming months, gather and save your harvests, make alliances south and even talk with King Aegon if you wish it so" Lord Edwyle Stark snorts at the suggestion.

"The south has never cared of what the North always faces" he said with a tone of finality, "and if I talk with the king in the Iron Throne and say that the White Walkers are real, I'll be a laughingstock of the whole realm!" the outburst even took the two Istari off their guard surprising them as his lord father called for a servant to give him wine.

"What of the east then my lord? As we are friend to Ar-Palantir we could arrange an agreement of sorts in your name" when Alatar said it Lord Edwyle Stark had to scoff as if it were ridiculous.

"That would put more pressure on us from the Iron Throne! The Ar-Adûnâim once supported the Blackfyres when Aerys under the advice of both Brynden and Maekar decided to support Braavos in their march to claim the hills of Andalos for less interest in our loans that we accumulated" the whole of Westeros still remembers the time and horror when the Numenoreans helped Aegor and his Golden Company land on Maidenpool before harrying the coastal areas of the Riverlands, the Crownlands and also the Vale much to the horror of the lords of the realm then.

If not for Bloodraven's gambit then maybe a Blackfyre would sit on the Iron Throne. _It was said that a lighthouse was built on the edge of the Blackwater bay where it can signal the realm whenever they see the Numenorean black sails_, Maekar had banished the Numenoreans living on King's Landing and had tried to sail at the Narrow Sea to attack their capitol of Mithkadar, only to be captured at the same sea by them and was then forced to give up a daughter and a son who both became bride and hostage before he was sent back to King's Landing where he died the year after and Aemon became regent and negotiated the release of Aegon who became the fifth of his name.

"I wouldn't put it past to young King Aegon as much as he was a hostage of the Numenoreans he is remarkably a great lad who can listen to his people, I had heard from Ar-Palantir that the boy is well-treated to say the least in concern of his status and the boy's sister is already a bride to Phazân Gimilzôr and their marriage is fruitful so to speak" Rickard Stark watches as the Alatar lit a pipe and then smoke when he said that while his lord father only scoffed at it.

"Aye we all know of it, the whole realm knows of it, how the Numenoreans pressured Maekar into submission to give up his two children, while one is already a man grown whereas the other a girl not yet flowered" the sweet smell of toby was rich in the air as Alatar continued to breath in the vapors of the pipe.

The Agreement under the Pillar it was called as it was made under the Haven of Mithkadar where a pillar was built in commemoration of Ar-Palantir's gaining of his spurs at the battle of the hills of Andalos when he was a prince, and his great raid of the port of Braavos when he became the king when his father had _willed himself to die _or so how the Istari would tell Rickard.

"Still I will not look for any help south or east unless it is necessary, but still we would accept _refugees _as long as they obey the law" Lord Edwyle Stark stubborn refusal was only met by a sigh from the two as they turned to Rickard before turning back to his lord father.

"If you wish it so Lord Stark" they both said as they turn and leave.

"Rickard" his father calls as the boy approaches the Lord of Winterfell.

"Yes father?"

"What do you say boy of going south to King's Landing?"

* * *

**Author's note: oh my head! But hey this is a wrap, and also I wasn't planning on doing the Winterfell part since it isn't that important other than the fact I kind of wanted to have a cause and justifications for Rickard's southern ambitions, and yes it was a last touch plan but yeah the next part will be an interlude concerning the events on the aftermath of the Pentos campaign and the next of the interlude shall be titled Ar-Palantir I will be about the third Blackfyre rebellion to the Ninepenny kings, and their expansion northward of the Andalos hills and also south of Myr.**

**Anyway concerning Braavos and their actions in the future, sometimes you've got to look at it this way, states always look out for only themselves as much as we can say yeah Braavos is great because it fought Pentos to frees slaves there is more than that, its all about the balance of power, Braavos didn't fought Pentos because it has slaves, it fought Pentos because it threatens their hold of Northern Essos and also their hegemony as a mercantile power in the Narrow sea, the PR advertisement is good if Braavos says they did it out of a noble cause but still you've got to look deeper at that.**

**Its the same way when Ar-Gimilthôn made the mercenaries kill themselves by placing them where the fighting is thickest while at the same time offering their wages to their widows and orphans, kind of asshole-ish I know but still that's how it goes in the grand scheme of things.**

**by the way if you don't like the Winterfell part you can just leave the review on your thoughts concerning that and I can change it to a scene concerning the reaction in King's Landing.**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


	6. Interlude I: the changing times

_**199 after Aegon's **_**_conquest_**

The fall of Pentos to the Numenoreans had sent a shock wave across the Narrow sea, to the southern parts of Essos and also surprisingly to Westeros as merchants of the now fallen Free city had to pay taxes to a foreign king and not a prince that is voted by their magisters, of course as it was with sudden changes there were of course those who wanted to go back as it once was. In Westeros, a group of Pentoshi merchants petitioned King Daeron the Good to send word to Ar-Gimilthôn to release Pentos and let it be ruled once more by its people, the people being the great merchants and the magisters of the city, a request the king of Westeros granted and sent a delegation asking only for Pentos to be free and a reminder of the friendship between him and Daeron, it was a message that was disregarded and even mocked by Ar-Gimilthôn telling Daeron to: _fix your own affairs at home, before meddling on others business_.

Now it can be said that Westeros had a stake as to why they would want Pentos to be free again, there was business to be had with Pentos, and its fall to the Ar-Adûnâim had halted that business as the merchants of Pentos that are on Westeros now didn't have a means to resupply themselves of the products of their homeland, unless they went to Mithkadar and pledge themselves to the Numenorean king which would mean they would have to pay taxes to him which is unlike their way of life before and so the reason why they begged Daeron to send a delegation to Mithkadar to ask for the re-instatement of Pentos as a Free city which Ar-Gimilthôn mock.

The mocking reply of Ar-Gimilthôn to Daeron was met with uproar to the court in King's Landing, his sons Baelor and Maekar with the support of Brynden called for a declaration of war to the Ar-Adûnâim, a call which King Daeron rebuked his sons and adviser for as a loss Pentos is the Numenoreans had already fully consolidated themselves in the land and the businesses loss can come back in due time, _they had firmly rooted themselves in, to its lands, to the hearts and minds of the people who first lived there before_, the king of Westeros said. It was not all diplomacy to the Numenoreans either, with the fall of Pentos came wave upon wave of Dothraki migration to the west of Essos, thinking that the land's new masters were weak and like vultures to a carcass they came but the Ar-Adûnâim were made of sterner stuff as whenever the Dothraki Khalassars would often come past the river Rhoyne alive and none would live to tell a tale back to the Dothraki sea.

Myr never welcomed the new neighbor on its doorstep, moreover they felt threatened as their new neighbor was far more militant and aggressive, after the battle of the Flatlands, Myrish noble heads were sent to the conclave of magisters after a peace was signed between them, to the Myrish it was seen as a threat but to the Numenoreans a message for them to not try fight them once more. Tyrosh and Lys certainly tried to react fiercely on the new northern Essosi state, sending their privateers and mercenaries against them only to end up with heads sent along their way, the Ar-Adûnâim navy patrolled the Narrow seas and acted as if they were its only masters. Volantis had tried to test its might once more against the Numenoreans which ended in two forces posturing along the river Rhoyne and ended up with an agreement, trade concessions and some limitations of Numenorean naval patrols across the seas.

Tensions however were brewing between the Ar-Adûnâim and Braavos despite their allied status, the Free city of Braavos had called on Ar-Gimilthôn to not tax any goods and services coming from Braavos, in the name of the support they have given him, while at the same time Braavos taxed any Adûnâim goods and services that came from the newly established kingdom which despite the protest of the king of the Adûnâim there was nothing he could do as if not for Braavos he wouldn't have made his people a home where they could settle and live in, but as the tensions that were brewed only ended up with both sides sending delegations and try to diffuse the situation, both neighbors knew that it was only a matter of time until something breaks that tension and it would go into a full scale war.

* * *

_**209 after Aegon's conquest**_

Daeron the second of his name of House Targaryen, king of the Andals, the First men, and the Rhoynar, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the realm is dead because of a disease that swept the realm, he had outlived his eldest and his grandsons for two months before succumbing to a mysterious disease that no one knew of or even how to cure.

The ringing of the bells were slow and sorrowful, a song that sang the death of a king, as the Silent Sisters began to prepare the journey of Daeron's body to the dragonpit for the traditional Valyrian funeral custom of burning the body. Maekar nudged his brother Aerys to look at one of the attendees of their father's funeral, wearing the common black coloring of his people and standing much taller than even the other nobles of Westeros is Ar-Gimilthôn with his simple crown of black feathers with a five pointed star at its center.

He seems to be talking with his son, now ten and nine of age, Palantir seem to be replying something to his father in their own language but then they both stopped when the High Septon finished his sermon and allowed the funeral attendees to pay their respects before the Silent Sisters take their father's body, father and son both approached Maekar and Aerys who stood at the sides of Daeron's body.

"Me and my family give you our deepest sympathies, your father was a good man and a great ruler, we could only hope that you could also rule like him if not better" _quite something from a man that mocked our father when asked for a small favor as friends_, Maekar could have scoffed but it wouldn't do well if he showed any disrespect to a king that sailed from his home just to give out his condolence, Aerys slightly bows to the king of the Ar-Adûnâim.

"We accept your condolences, your grace, although you don't have to sail from your home just to personally give it to us" Aerys said smiling as his counterpart smiled as well.

"He was my friend and also a king like me, despite the harsh words I have said of him, I still respect him as a king like myself, an outbreak of disease will not hinder me and my family from paying proper respects" father and son then left the premises of the Great sept of Baelor having already done giving their respects to a dead king.

Their father's body was then marched towards the dragonpit and the people of King's Landing began to cry out and voice their grief as the funeral procession passes, some even tried to reach the body to take some boon or relic but was pushed by the gold cloaks away, some had already began to hail Maekar's brother Aerys as the new king, _even when father's ashes hadn't yet gathered_, Maekar thought as they finally arrived on the dragonpit where a pyre was prepared and Daeron's body is set on it. Aerys took a torch from one of the Silent Sisters, _may father meet brother Baelor again_, Maekar thought as he remembers the tourney that took the life of a brother he knew for the sake of a hedge knight.

"My father ruled over you, if it was well, may you give him the applause that he wants, for now you all shall be watched over by an altogether different king" with that said he set the pyre aflame and everyone at the dragonpit began to kneel.

"Long live King Aerys Targaryen!" the gathered assembly cried out as a crown was then put on Aerys' brow and he presented himself for all to see.

Their father's ashes now gathered and put on the Great sept, the brothers then went back to the Red Keep where a servant was awaiting "long live King Aerys Targaryen!" the servant cried bowing to the king, "the small council had been arranged as you ordered, your grace"

"Good let us meet now and finish the business of the day, I have a good book that I need to finish" _always with the books brother_, Maekar thought smiling as they entered the small council chamber where every member began to stand in attention.

"Long live King Aerys Targaryen!" they all called out as Brynden Rivers, their uncle and Hand ushered them to the chair that is at the head of the table and right of it while he sat himself on the left.

"Your grace we have gathered as you ordered"

"Good, good now let's get into business" Aerys declares as the Master of Ships, Addam Manderly, stood from his seat.

"Your grace I would like to pass along a report concerning the Ar-Adûnâim fleet in the Narrow sea" he said with a bow as he produced a scroll which he then began to read aloud, "the Numenoreans have began to patrol around closely to the islands held close by the Blackwater bay not allowing our fishermen to fish on what is essentially our part of the Narrow sea, while they would allow trade ships to pass over them without paying them _taxes_" there was outrage as every member of the small council voice their concerns on the matter.

"Silence! SILENCE!" Maekar hammered his fist at the table that it almost broke while at the same time accomplished his goals of silencing the members of the small council.

"Ar-Gimilthôn and his son was here on my father's funeral paying their respects" their Lord Commander of the King's guard, Ser Donnel of Duskendale stood.

"Then we must capture them while they are on the city! Demand them to stop their encroachment on our shores!" his shout was met with cries of approval from the rest of the small council that it felt _more of a tavern than a royal council_. A messenger burst open a door and then approached Brynden Rivers who began to whisper to Maekar's brother Aerys who nodded before turning his attention to the small council.

"As much as we would like to discuss the matters on the Narrow sea with the king of the Numenoreans, diplomatically that is, it seems that Ar-Gimilthôn and his son has already left the shores back to his capitol of Mithkadar as we are speaking" there were grumbles and grunts now the Master of Ships and the Lord Commander sat.

Their Master of Coin, Arthur Blackwood, a far-off relative of Brynden Rivers stood "your grace, my lords, I had just received word from merchants across the Narrow sea that the Ar-Adûnâim had built a bank they called the Silver Bank of Mithkadar, they had began to partner with the Rogare bank in Lys in exchange for their non-support of Tyrosh and Myr, they had also begun a company called the Far-east company which made mercantile ventures to Yiti, and from the looks of it our merchants too prefer the presence of the Numenoreans at sea as much as they were being taxed..." there were now boos and jeers as Arthur speaks but Aerys raises his hand to silence them.

"The Ar-Adûnâim fleet provided protection against pirates, and the Narrow sea had never became safer" the Master of Coin finishes as he went back to seat once more.

"And I suppose you would ask the king to let it be, because merchants and coin-counters feel safe? Better yet why not ask our king to give up his crown to the Ar-Adûnâim" even Maekar could agree with their Master of Ships, _a king that cannot project strength even at the seas is no king that can project his power in the lands he ruled_. Even their attendance to the funeral of Daeron can be seen as a challenge _like they were daring us to do anything about it_.

"Aye such acts of people we consider as friends in the last years cannot stand my lords" Aerys said as he looks at the small council, his visage seemingly tall as he leans on his chair, "but unless we have the strength to fight against such a threat I am not willing to act on it" there was wisdom on Aerys words, the disease that took their father didn't just kill the nobles of many houses, but also the knights trained for war and the smallfolk that are levied to invest in such a war.

The Numenoreans however seem to know that there is a plague that came from Westeros as they quickly turn away all of the ships coming from Westeros while at the same time close their borders for some months until they had completed building hospices on their forts, towns, villages, and farmsteads, an action that both Maekar and Aerys couldn't help but admire and try to replicate with mix success during the time when their father was down because of the same plague.

_Willing as we are, our strength are lacking_, Maekar could only clench his fist as Aerys let the thought sink in before he stood up, "I can only ask the Master of Ships to look into our navy and see if its up to the same standards as to that of the Numenoreans" he then finally dismissed the small council.

"Your grace there has been whispers concerning your marriage" all of the attendants were surprised when it was Brynden who brought such a thing up, while it was never a big deal even to those in court, there has always been whispers that Maekar's brother may not have been interested in his wife, Aelinor Penrose, and that their marriage has been nothing more but a show.

"What of it my Hand?" Aerys demands as Brynden bows to him.

"T'is nothing of importance your grace, only for the well-being of the realm as there has been questions concerning on who will be your heir, should you..." he left the uncomfortable truth behind as Aerys sighs in irritation.

"My nephews through Rhaegel shall succeed me and I will remind you and those who whisper such things that I will not give up Aelinor just because we never conceived a child and that is final" with that said the king left.

* * *

_**The Narrow sea**_

They came to King's Landing to pay respects while at the same time give a signal to the merchants of the city and also of the continent that their kingdom is once more open for business with the Seven kingdoms of Westeros as they had learned that the plague seem to be far more common in the unwashed rural areas of Westeros and not to its burghers and nobles, also they had already finished with preparing every town, fort, villages, and farmsteads of what to do should an outbreak happen.

The Narrow sea wasn't actually narrow in the way a lot of the peoples say, _they should really call it the wide sea_, Palantir thought as his father the king went beside him "thinking of someone back home?" he asked of his betrothal to his childhood sweetheart, Börte daughter of Chagatai.

"Father..." Palantir sighs while Ar-Gimilthôn smiles. The time when both him and Börte had finally reached the age of thirteen, both of their fathers had decided to betroth the two of them to each other, not that they were complaining or anything, _it just felt so fast_, he still remembers when they're ten and Palantir was dared by Börte to kiss her if he had the guts to back up his claims that she is beautiful to her people, a dare that he did much to the horror of his mother and to the amusement of their fathers.

"What? There's no shame in looking forward to marriage my son, I'd say it is a good match after all it would unite our peoples both and would allow me to further rule the kingdom properly"

The union between him and Börte would further unite the Variags and the Numenoreans into a single people, although since they were betrothed and not yet married the woman had granted him some liberties which he practiced _once at Lys on his eighteenth birthday_, although it seems his father notices that lecherous grin he had on his face as he smacked the back of his head "wipe that dirty smirk on your face, it is beneath you" he said as he sighs and then looks at the sea.

"I expect that I will not receive word that you and some of your friends has entertain harlots the night before you are to tie the knot"

"That was just on my eighteenth birthday father!" Palantir protested, _will he ever let it go?_ true he and some friends went out to Lys to celebrate his eighteenth birthday, he slept with some whore that he made sure drink moontea and drank a lot of wine, he still winced every time he remembers going back to Mithkadar a week after with an angry Ar-Gimilthôn and a disappointed Lyssandra looking down on him, "Börte didn't even mind it, and it was only one time" he said as his father glares at him which shut him up.

"And from that one time would have you sick with whatever pox those harlots carry" Ar-Gimilthôn states as he relents and then sighs, "me and your mother were just worried, you are my son and heir, and if you think your betrothed is fine with it you should be spending more time with her"

Then Ar-Gimilthôn's eyes turned serious as they watch the waves lead them home "You remember the matter that I discussed with you back in King's Landing son?" Palantir nods, _Braavos had once again tried to encroach on our lands_, there had been border disputes between them now, the Variag shepherds have been complaining of Braavosi patrols driving them off whenever they were at the border that separates them and also both father and son had been a target of assassins every now and then.

_I still remember capturing those faceless men_, Palantir shivered as he once fought off a faceless men that tried to poison them if not for the effort of a brave footman who died tasting their food and the suspect being the loyal cook who was already dead and whose appearance was taken by the assassin, _you worship death you say? _He remembers his father say to the faceless man, _I would like to remind you that death is all about the journey and not the destination, you will not die, but you'll be begging for it all the same_, the man was tortured until he can give whoever hired him to kill them before he was finally killed and his head sent to the House of Black and White.

_Father has sworn that he will burn that house to the ground if they continue to send assassins to them_, Palantir shivers at what lengths his father would go to protect them "Aye I remember father, but we couldn't just act rashly, we owe Braavos the position where we are now" _and they still have their uses_, their investment to the Far-east company has been profitable to both sides.

Ar-Gimilthôn scrunched his face in disgust as he spat at the seas "it was an agreement where they expected us to die, they had already outlived their usefulness" his grip on the wooden board tightens "it is only a matter of time until war is to happen between us and them" _and it will be a war where we shall have to win_, Palantir could agree with his father in that regard but still he thinks that they would have to be patient and continue to prepare for that inevitable.

Both prince and king slept when night came, the sea had been Palantir's hearth and home for many years and so it hasn't bothered him at all whenever he slept below the decks and feel the waves battering their vessel, _a Numenorean's blood is sea salt and the sea wind is the air he breathes in_.

* * *

_**On Mithkadar and the ****kingdom of the Adûnâim****, a maester's perspective**_

It was a year after that disastrous business that is the great spring sickness that certain restrictions on travels to the kingdom of the Adûnâim was already lifted and I was able to visit it with permission of the embassy of the Numenoreans in King's Landing. I booked a ship to Mithkadar and before I knew it I was now sailing at the Narrow sea on board the Numenorean vessel named _Shadow_, when we were already away from port our ship was already being escorted by an Adûnâim vessel, _it is for our safety_, so said the captain of the _Shadow _said and it was true, I had already heard tales that when the Numenoreans conquered Pentos and created their own kingdom they had begun to send out naval patrols to and from their ports which battled pirates and save merchant ships, all in all they brought peace in the often disputed Narrow sea.

I arrived on the port of Mithkadar where I received news of a wedding, it was the union of Ar-Gimilthôn's son, Phazân-Palantir and also of Börte, daughter of the Variag chief Chagatai, it was a good time for me to compare the wedding and other social customs of such an enigmatic people from Sothoryos that had ruled the region that was once a daughter of Valyria, and also a place where we Andals originated from. My status as maester was well-received by the Numenoreans and I was then brought before the Willow tree that was the center of the city, there are many guests there some of them the native Pentoshi servants, the others were surprisingly of the North, then the Variags and then the Numenoreans, bride and groom were brought to the place both of them seemingly tired and there it was explained to me that they did a Variag marriage custom which is the groom would have to chase the bride on an open field on a horse, the bride was wearing a white veil which covered her from head to toe, while the groom wore a black gambeson and black breeches, also leather boots, with a golden pin of a five pointed star with wings on his breast, after such affair they would have to do the Numenorean marriage custom which they were brought before their respective parents and both fathers would exchange gifts, and then both bride and groom would have to drink wine on a small cup for three times while saying oath in between, three symbolizing how they would be with each other in sickness, and in health, in joy and sorrow, till death part each of them, after that their intertwined hands were then tied by the mother of the groom, with the father finally declaring that they are wed.

The wedding feast was held in the same place, there were only five courses in the feast, the first being salads, the second being a simple fish soup, third the main course which is a whole honey roasted deer, fourth being a second main course which is a red beef stew which is enough for the whole guests, and the fifth being a collection of desserts ranging from honey cakes and sweetened twice baked bread, as the wedding feast proceeded it was customary for guests to give well-wishes to the bride and groom, the first being both of their parents of course, with the father of the bride giving a rather an embarrassing story of the bride's childhood that both bride and groom decided to stop the man and give the floor to the next of the guests, I wasn't expected to be given the floor but since it is a wedding so I just give them well-wishes and hopes of a fruitful marriage, the end of the feast didn't culminate to a bedding which is when the bride and groom are both assisted to their bed chambers, the feast only ended with both bride and groom retiring the feast and off to their chambers.

When I asked of this to a man next to me, he was horrified and even offended that I would say or suggest of such a thing, it seems to the Numenoreans they find the concept of stripping a man and woman who is married naked and escorting them to their chambers along with shouting bawdy japes to be outright barbaric, before harsh words could be exchanged I quickly apologized to the man then asked my Numenorean guide, Balkazîr, to help me retire for the night. I was woken and told that we had to take a bath before we could go around the kingdom, I was surprised at this, not that I wouldn't deny a bath it is just that bathing this morning would open the pores to miasma causing sickness and disease, when I told this to my guide it made him laugh as if I just said something ridiculous, he told me that they often bath three to four times a day to prevent diseases which shocked me even more as I was guided to a bathhouse and I couldn't help but be amazed at the way it was built, pipes connected the bathhouse to the waters of the Narrow sea and a central heating system using the gas of boiling sea water made the pools and the building itself warm, after the business of bathing we went to the tall gate that is pointed at the east, it was called the Victorious gate, for it has monuments that tells of Ar-Gimilthôn's victories that resulted on the establishment of the kingdom they ruled.

Balkazîr guided me across the kingdom of the Adûnâim, he was your typical Numenorean, tall, six feet and ten inches in height, with a striking and piercing grey eyes, and also a strong jaw and a well shaped nose, he is handsome to say the least. Our travels put as around small villages which are ruled by a Sheriff, which is a village elder in comparison to us Westerosi, but unlike the village elders, the Sheriff are voted by the village, they can organize a village militia to fight marauding bandits or even send a message to a nearby fort for assistance. We stayed on the village for a day before we went on our way once more, and after two days we arrived to Pentos which was now ruled by a Bênkadar or Mayor, and these offices are only appointed by the king, the only responsibilities of a mayor is administrative meaning he would have to conduct census and also collect taxes for the king, any building projects that he would have to do would need an approval of the king. Then there is also the armies of the Ar-Adûnâim as often as I could impress the Ar-Adûnâim army is divided into four groups, the Azrazair, the Rozadan, the Abrazanim, and the Naru n'aru. The Azrazair perhaps can be called the Adûnâim navy, made out of capable seafarers and marines they patrol the Narrow sea and protected it from pirates, the Rozadan can be called the quick-response army, they are usually placed on the borders of the kingdom, defending it from bandits or Dothraki khalassars that pass through then there are the Abrazanim, their name literally means the 'faithful and loyal' these men are billeted on cities and walled towns acting as reserves should the Rozadan falter, then there is the Naru n'aru literally translated as 'the king's men' they are what can be called the King's guard although they are divided into five distinct groups, the Ar-Pharazôn's faithful, the Adûnâim armsmen, the Ar-Pharazôn's watchers, the Adûnâim sentinels, and the infamous Berúthiel's rangers, they are always with the king except for Berúthiel's rangers which often go around the corners of the kingdom making sure that there is law and order in every farmstead, villages, towns, and cities they find themselves in, we ourselves have been watched by these rangers while we were en route to Pentos. After my trip to the kingdom of the Adûnâim I can't help but admire that despite ruling the lands that was once of Pentos, the ruling Numenoreans of the kingdom of the Adûnâim was able to establish themselves completely and firmly on the lands, maybe it is because of the fact that there wasn't a mirror of Westeros here, what I often consider as common to what is expected in Westeros isn't as it was here in the Adûnâim kingdom, there are no lords in the kingdom only men that the king believed to be capable or if it was on villages elected by the people, unlike what can be said of the Targaryens on the Iron Throne here in the Adûnâim kingdom what the king said his word is law and absolute.

* * *

**Author's note: so Interlude over, and the next would be Ar-Palantir I, so yeah I modeled the Adûnâim army into something akin to late roman imperial army, the Diocletian reform ones since yeah there is a powerful central authority and yes they are always on the defensive (although they will be offensive later on) and yes there is rather a powerless elite class that can play 'the game' behind the king, but despite the yes almost perfect representation here, you might be able to spot some weakness here, the more autocratic and centralized the power politics here, the more inflexible and unadaptable it can be when there is a weak ruler on the throne, so yeah I just introduced you the Adûnâim power structure make of it if you will.**

**And yes at this point the Adûnâim kingdom is acting like Carthage/China with its sea policies, so expect them grinding heads with other nations at this point since no one wants a new comer going about with their business and even changing the balance of power.**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated**

**Miko 56**


	7. Ar-Palantir I

**_211 after Aegon's conquest_**

A hot summer wind blew from the south as the Ar-Adûnâim army began to march towards Myr, it has been fourteen years now since the battle of the Flatlands and the Myrish still felt the humiliated and had waited in those years to prepare for another conflict with the kingdom of the Adûnâim, and the war had started with a siege of one of the Adûnâim forts bordering Myr and the Numenoreans and even though they had won a decisive victory against the garrison of that fort the Myrish army began to suffer a repeat of a war of attrition and skirmishes as the infamous Berúthiel's rangers launched raids that burn their supplies and whittle their numbers, and more than often denying them battle unless the Numenoreans are at an advantage.

_These people should learn when they are conquered_, Ar-Gimilthôn thought as he and his army marched to the gates of Myr where the armies of Lys and Tyrosh will meet with him and together they will crush the Myrish and conquer the city with his banners on its walls, it had been a hard bargain to even have the Tyroshi and the Lyseni to invest in the war, he had to surrender the Myrish claims in the disputed lands to the two cities for the prize of the city under his hands, _it was still a worthy trade as another port would widen our coverage of the Narrow sea, while also discourage the pirate scum that lingers on the Stepstones_.

Another part of the trade was to include Tyrosh in this strange but necessary alliance.

"Your grace" came the young voice of Arnubên Hornwood who approached him with a paper on his hand, "letters from the mercenary companies under the Tyroshi and Lyseni employ" the boy of four and ten handed Ar-Gimilthôn the message from the mercenary captains and what he read could only make him scrunch his face in disgust.

_Mercenaries_, the king of the Numenoreans will never understand the reliance of these peoples on sellswords and cutthroats, two of the Lyseni free companies had decided to turn cloak and join Myr, it seems that despite being defeated again and already at its last legs the Myrish still have the finances and power to bribe mercenaries to their cause, now the forces that will meet him at Myr's gates will be four mercenary companies, three from Tyrosh and one from Lys and combined with the Adûnâim army it would be a large army ever assembled in Essos, twenty five thousand in total not counting the baggage train the army marches with.

"Who is the overall commander of the mercenary forces of our allies?" Ar-Gimilthôn asked passing the paper to the boy as he slip the paper to his pack.

"A man by the name of Aegor Rivers your grace, with the blessings of the Tyroshi magisters he was given command of the forces they had mustered" _Aegor Rivers, a Westerosi, where have I heard of that name? _The now four and eighty years old king of the Numenoreans rubs his chin as he ponders on where he had heard of the man, "your grace?" his young steward stopped his train of thoughts as he nods.

_I don't have to worry about_ it, they all sound the same to him "nothing good Arnubên we should continue marching, we have a lot of ground to cover" with that said they march at the head of the column towards Myr.

They arrived at the agreed upon meeting place where a camp was already set up and they had arrived after a two days march, the mercenaries and their servants engage in whatever acts of depravity and tomfoolery that can be observed as they began to set themselves up separate to them although the camp harlots began to extend their services to them which some of his men had already taken, much to his disgust and disappointment, Ar-Gimilthôn could only shook his head as he dismounted and then gave his horse to the young steward who began to give orders with his blessing while he search the camp for Commander Aegor Rivers.

"Where is your commander sellsword?" he demanded to a lax guard who is busy canoodling with a harlot on his lap before he quickly stood in attention to his presence.

"From his own tent m'lord with the other capt'ns of ours yonder there" the man said pointing at the simple decorated tent in the middle of the grounds, the king could only scrunch his nose in disgust before he just walked past the man to the direction of the tent.

It seems there was a plan that was in motion as Ar-Gimilthôn enters the tent he was then met with looks from the leaders of the collected mercenary companies "so the king of the uhh Ar-"

"Numenoreans if it feels hard in your tongue" Gimilthôn states as he looks at the commander of the whole mercenary forces looking at him as well, Aegor Rivers is a large man for his race, strong-boned and muscled, with a rugged bearded face and piercing violet eyes that denotes the degenerate Valyrian blood, _a relative of the Targaryens perhaps?_ Gimilthôn thought as the man looked at him.

"We once crossed swords" Aegor simply states as the king was surprised of it.

"Truly? I don't remember crossing swords with a man with your stature"

"It was on the march to the Flatlands if I remember, your grace" Aegor reminded Ar-Gimilthôn as he set himself at the center of the tent.

"Hmmm battlefields are often chaotic, I never knew whom I cross swords with or cared where my blade pierced" Gimilthôn observes the man in his mail and gambeson, his arms were a winged, fire-breathing horse on a yellow field and then on his right chest was a sigil that he thought he would never see again, a black dragon on a red field, _a Blackfyre_.

"Aegor Rivers, your grace, one of the supporters of the rightful heirs to the Iron Throne" the man said as he looks at him, king and mercenary both measuring each other "you fought against us on the Redgrass field fifteen years ago"

"Aye I did" Gimilthôn states as he pulls out his water skin and sate his parched throat, "are you here to kill me then because of that defeat fifteen years ago?" Aegor shook his head seemingly offended by his suggestion.

"No only to tell you that you chose the wrong side of that conflict" Aegor simply said as he turns his attention back to the map, "the two mercenary companies that turned cloak were the Iron Shields and the Men of Valor" he said as he presented the map to the king of the Numenoreans.

"Anything special with those companies?"

Aegor shook his head "they are the typical sellsword companies that had fought on the disputed lands ever since it has become such, although..." he puts two horses on the north of the Myrish eastern borders "there are two Dothraki khalassars marching around the Myrish hinterlands, I fear that come the next day they are going to fight for Myr"

"Then all we had to do is we do not allow both the turn cloaks and the Dothraki to join forces" Ar-Gimilthôn remarks and Aegor agreed, "I suppose you want me to give battle to the Dothraki, while you face off against the two companies?" Aegor nodded once more as Gimilthôn then placed his forces at the front of the Dothraki forces.

"We should rest up and then march once more" the king said and Aegor agreed and so Ar-Gimilthôn left the tent and at their side of the camp he was met by Arnubên who bowed to him.

"Your grace"

"I want us to prepare for a march by the afternoon, we are going to hunt some Dothraki scum" he said as the young steward nods and then left to do his bidding.

* * *

**_Mithkadar_**

Phazân-Palantir rose from his bed and then turns to see his wife, Börte, and her swollen belly. _I'm married_, he thought as he smiles as she moans something about their babe kicking her, time moves so quick and he cannot help but see himself as nothing more but the same boy back fifteen years ago, there was a knock on the door and then a sound of pushing as the prince and heir of the Adûnâim saw his mother Lyssandra.

"Good morning mother" he said as he sat on his bed making sure that his wife is still asleep, _she is always a heavy sleeper_, Palantir thought as Lyssandra approaches.

"Let me look at you" she said as she studies him, looking up and down at the man that he is now, "you look just like your father" she remarks as she then saw that Börte was stirring in her sleep.

"You should rouse your wife from her bed" she said as she stood up, "do your ablutions and join me and your other siblings in breaking our fast" _its breakfast_, Palantir urged to correct his mother's vernacular like his father did so but then he decided not too since his mother would still go back to her usual wording of things, with that said Lyssandra left the room and Palantir began to rouse his wife from bed.

"Come on let's get up my dear" he said as Börte playfully refuses to rise up from her bed, "you are already awake Börte you can't fool me with that" his wife groans but opened her eyes and black eyes meet bright grey ones.

"I still want to stay in bed Palantir"

"Up you go my lazy pig!" he said teasingly as he was met with a glare by his wife, _oops_.

After some coaxing and apologies, both husband and wife had finally joined their family for breakfast "brother! Sissy!" came the voice of the twins, Bêlzagar and Azrâindil, both ten and four years of age now, Bêlzagar is now practicing with sticks and also bows, while Azrâindil is practicing household chores in preparation for her marriage when she will become one and twenty years of age.

"No greeting for your older brother?" Palantir feigned offense as the twins giggled at him.

"We always greet you big brother! Now that sissy is waking up earlier we have to greet her too!" Azrâindil said as Börte playfully smiles at his expense, after breakfast the twins with mother decided to do their usual chores everyday which is Bêlzagar being instructed by tutors in the arts of war, and of politics and Azrâindil being taught by Lyssandra about the affairs of a house while Palantir and Börte both stand in for the king that was away on campaign, accepting foreign delegation and also receiving reports concerning the kingdom and its borders.

As a messenger of the Rozadan commander of the eastern forts began to state a report, the great doors of the keep began to open, revealing a Numenorean man who began to recognize Palantir and then struggled to bow until he fell on the ground because of arrows on his back, screams from the courtiers, diplomats, and servants alike came as Palantir stood from his throne "someone call a healer!" he orders the servants who scrambled on their feet, he quickly approaches the man, rolling him over.

Their eyes met as the man gripped tightly on Palantir's hand "From the northern forts...Braavos betrayal...attacked...two days from now...marching...Mithkadar...send message to... his grace" the man's eyes went blank as he breathe his last and the prince and heir of the kingdom quickly began to search the man's pockets revealing a message from the commander of the northern forts, _he must have ridden hard from the northern forts to deliver this here_, Palantir closes the man's eyes as he began to read the report.

The attack was sudden and swift, Phazân-Palantir had begun to call for the forces closest to the capital while at the same time sending a rider to send a message to his father and their army, he was quickly called upon by the commander of their garrison to look at the northern part of their walls, fires from beacons began to fire up sending a message that war is coming to the capitol "I want every capable hands in the walls" he said as he began to look at the port where a signal fire from a newly built lighthouse was also lit, _enemy ships_, "is a message sent to Admiral Sakalthôr?" he asked to the garrison commander who shook his head.

"Then what are you waiting for?" the man quickly began to bark orders for a fast ship to be sent to their navy, no sleep came to him as he began to ready the defense of the city, making sure that every granary is filled with food, and making sure that the garrison is not slacking off in their duties.

It was night now when ships with Braavosi sails were seen on their coast, a red flag was seen flying on their mast, the colors of war. "Is a part of the garrison stationed at the ports?" he had asked the garrison commander.

"Yes your grace" he answers as Palantir looked at the now positioning enemy ships.

_The navy arrived at night, they must have been sailing for two or four days now_, Palantir thought as he remembers back when he was a child of sailing at sea from Braavos to this spot where Mithkadar is, _it must mean that their army would come after four days or even a week_, Palantir thought as he dismissed the garrison commander while stayed on the roof of the keep, watching and waiting for anything to come and from the looks of it the blockading navy didn't have any plans on disembarking and landing on the shore but still Palantir had men keep check while also having the small garrison navy close on port, to attempt a breakthrough should the enemy pressure them.

"Mother was worried when you didn't join us for supper" Palantir turn his head then saw his wife, Börte, beautiful in the pale moonlight and holding a tray of tonight's supper in her arms, stuffed potatoes, dried olives, and lemon grilled salmon, with sweetened stuffed bread for dessert "I've brought food" she said as she sat beside him.

"Thanks" he said as he accepted the fork and then started digging in, "you should be on our room sleeping" he tells as Börte shook her head pouting at him.

"It was lonely in the bed without you on it" she then smiles as she leans on his shoulder while Palantir eat his meal, "I've heard that the enemy is about to come to the capital" she said and he could only nod in confirmation as she snuggles on him.

"I've made preparations too for you, mother, and the twins to travel to Pentos" he said, chewing on the dried olives and Börte shook her head.

"Send your mother and the twins away but I will stay here with you" she insists as Palantir sighs.

"Börte you carry our child, I will not risk you-!" his wife kisses him and then looks at him straight in the eye.

"For better or for worse, in sickness or in health, till death do us part, when we both swore our vows where does it say that I would leave you to die" Börte said smiling, "I will stay with you even if the time of doom looms at us" she chuckles as she quickly spat "and even if your breath smells foul!" _why her? _Palantir glared at his wife.

"You made me eat something of course my breath smells bad!" Börte just continued laughing and Palantir could only join her mirth until both of them decided to sleep at the rooftop of the keep tonight.

The next day came reports concerning the movement of the enemy army, while the blockade was still present it seems the Braavosi didn't attempt any landing during the night. Börte's father, Chagatai, had already gathered his tribes and what remaining reserves to meet the enemy army and try and challenge them on a battlefield before they could lay siege on Mithkadar, the rangers had been sabotaging the baggage train of the marching army while at the same time save the small villages and farmsteads that are around the kingdom from being raided and looted.

Base on the reports of the arriving villagers and farmstead owners, the Braavosi army numbered ten to twelve thousand, thirteen if they also count their baggage, their garrison numbered about two thousand five hundred and that is not discounting those that had been pressed into the defense of the city "Do you think we can hold?" he asks the garrison commander, Minlubên.

"that depends on where they will attack your grace" he said as he spread out the map of the city, after fourteen years Mithkadar had grown from a small settlement to a city, while it is a center of trade, commerce, and culture of the kingdom it is also a fortress by design with stone walls and towers quickly built as they settle in "the most sensible location would be where the gate is weakest which is our northern part" Minlubên points at where the Founder's arch stood.

"There isn't even a door there let alone be called a gate" _just an arch_ Palantir thought as he cross the arch as a reminder to reinforce and barricade the location. "How about our supplies? Can we last if they sustain a siege?"

Minlubên nods affirmatively "if we ration our food and water we would last until the world's end although my worry is the naval blockade"

"Did Admiral Sakalthôr gave a reply?" Palantir asks as Minlubên shakes his head, they continued on discussing what to do, _but all of this is still unclear unless I have an update on the field_. Night came, a group of rangers that have arrived had been tasked in taking the twins and their mother away from Mithkadar while Palantir's wife had decided to stay.

"Look out for yourselves" Lyssandra said embracing the two of them, the twins were sad to go but they knew that they were not safe here.

"You have to be brave for mother you two" Palantir said as the twins nodded and looking at Bêlzagar, Palantir calls a footman who approaches him with an _eket _on his hand. "Bêlzagar here" Palantir takes the long dagger from the footman's hand then give it to his younger brother "remember the lessons that me and your instructors taught you, draw this blade only when you need to protect not just yourself but also mother and sister" the young boy nods as Palantir gives him a pat on the shoulder and with a heavy heart they begin their journey.

Palantir turns away, _now I am but a man-of-war_, he nods to Minlubên as they began to further discuss the defense of the city. Night and morning came once more as Palantir have been calming the populace concerning the upcoming siege, in the afternoon riders came by the gate carrying the Variag sun with the tengwar script of Numenor on its four corners, with them were Abrazanim and rangers as well, leading at the head was Jamukha, Börte's younger brother "Jamukha!" Börte greeted her brother with an embrace which he accepted albeit thankfully.

"I'm so sorry sister" he chokes, tears in eyes as Börte pushes him gently, "we have lost the battle, I don't know where father is, he was lost in the thick of it and I had to call a retreat before it descends into further chaos, if it weren't for the rangers it would have been a massacre" he said as his sister began to cry and Palantir had to console her. He was brought to the halls where he told of the battle while looking over the map of the kingdom.

"Did you make any significant damage to them?" he asks as Jamukha nods.

"We did although they were reinforced by people bearing the arms of a red three-headed dragon" Jamukha said as Palantir gripped the handle of his sword tightly.

_Targaryens? _Despite their disputes over the Narrow sea, the kings of the Iron throne wouldn't dare challenge them, the Adûnâim grip on the Narrow sea was secure with their ships preventing any piracy or invasion fleet to set sail, _unless Braavos has offered them something they cannot refuse, and they had sailed from the Vale of Arryn which is the only sea lane that connects Westeros to Essos through Braavos_, Palantir thought as he looks at his brother-in-law "how many are they?"

"From what I can tell? About fifteen thousand or seventeen thousand" _Fifteen to seventeen thousand! _If Palantir were a lesser man he would have fainted and declared the city open, but he was of the line of Elros Tar-Minyatur of the Houses of the Edain, and he knew him and his kindred will not shy away from a fight no matter what the odds.

"I don't like this odds" the commander of the garrison said and Palantir agreed with him, _still we would fight to the very last_, but Jamukha seem held out his hand and then studied the map.

"When we retreat, the army has scattered in the four winds you can send me to look and gather them to reinforce the city" Jamukha said and Palantir could only agree with him as dusk came Jamukha had left the city. A week of preparation has passed and Palantir was awoken by a trumpet from the Founder's arch, looking from the keep he saw the Braavosi army fully assembled and eager for battle.

* * *

_**Myrish borderlands**_

Pono watched as his people began to set up camps at a ridge to overlook the enemy opposite to them. Their enemies right now are the golden-iron men, strange evil peoples that Pono had heard of from the southern walled-cities, they came on the poison waters on their black ships and black sails raiding the walled cities and freeing the slaves, they had slaughtered many men and women of the southern walled-cities, and after settling west of what was once Pentos they had been slaughtering their people whenever they try to go westward.

His khal, Khal Temmo had decided to ally with Khal Onqo to create a larger khalassar of eleven thousand riders that can defeat the men who lived close to the poison sea, however one of the cities of those men approached them asking for help and promising great riches and rewards should they succeed in defeating them, now they are here to battle their new neighbors that is the golden-iron men, or the Ar-Adûnâim as they were often called which only numbered seven thousand base on what the scouts had reported to them.

It was night when the khal of the golden-iron men approached them offering to talk and negotiate, Pono watched from the edge of the tent as the removed his metal hat and metal mask revealing a handsome face, even without the metal hat and mask the man stood tall among his same height men "greetings" he said through an interpreter, a woman that had the same look as their people, _probably a captive by these golden-iron men_.

"I am Ar-Gimilthôn, lord of the Ar-Adûnâim, king of the Numenoreans, and master of the Narrow sea" he said through the woman interpreter, "I assume you know why I called for this talks?" he asked as the khals, Khal Temmo and Khal Onqo both looked at each other and nodded.

"Indeed we do Adûnâim, come here to beg for your life?" his khal, Khal Temmo said as the khal of the Adûnâim just smiled.

"No I am here to make you consider your choices and make you go back to whatever backwater you came from, seeing as you are clearly outmatched" _the audacity of this man! _Pono fought hard to himself to draw his _arakh _and kill this man for his impertinence, the two khals laughed at the man.

"You are confident for a man that is outnumbered!" Khal Onqo said as Khal Gimilthôn simply smiled, "we had already accepted gold from the khals of Myr, and you seem to be spoiling for a fight"

"I am giving you a chance to retreat and save your pathetic lives" he said as he began to turn away, "although it seems you are already set" Khal Gimilthôn then left the tent followed by his woman translator but was stopped by him with a hand.

"_Is there a problem good lord?_" the woman asks in whatever tongue the Ar-Adûnâim speaks as her khal simply smiles at her.

"You are with your people now Mirra, you can go home, I will send for your family from Hurushkadar" he said in perfect Dothraki that Pono was caught off guard by it while the woman was crying, clearly not happy with the order so she quickly bowed to the man, her face on the ground.

"Please my lord do not give me back to these people!" she cries out in Dothraki, "my family has never lived comfortably there in your cities and I swear that I will forever be loyal to your people, please my lord! Please do not send me back!" she begs as the khal of the Ar-Adûnâim lifted her up and then embraces her.

"_Hush now my child_" he said as he mockingly looks at the khals opposite to him "_you have proven your loyalty the same way as the arrogance of these savages has proven them difficult to be ever talked down, you may stay with us_" he said as he bid the khals a good night and a good fortune in the battle to come.

"I feel like that he is mocking us!" Khal Onqo snarls as he down his mare's wine.

"Indeed, it seems as if he was not here to beg for mercy but to simply make know of his _magnificence_" his khal, Khal Temmo said demanding a refill of his cups, "the best horse from my herd and the best of my slave women to any of my blood of my blood who kills and brings the head of their khal tomorrow!" cheers came as everyone drank and feast to an easy victory tomorrow.

Next day came and Pono watched as the khals began to form up on the ridge opposite their enemy who seem to stand unflinching in the face of death "Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" came the battle cry of the golden-iron men followed by shouts of "Anga-kuivie!" as they began to stomp their tall lances on the ground, the khals didn't seem intimidated at the gold and iron clothing of their enemy. Pono drew his _arakh _as their trumpets began to roar and they began to roar a battle cry in response to the Ar-Adûnâim, horses came to a trot and then a gallop.

"Ride them all down!" Khal Onqo cried out as they charge. Their way of warfare had never changed in anything ever since their great ride across the Dothraki sea, the first would be a false charge and then a retreat, should the enemy chase them they would be set upon by riders on their flanks, it has always been their way.

The false charge seem to be ineffective however as instead of taking chase the golden-iron men only stood like a stone to an upcoming tide, with deaths from the false charge lying on the ground, food for the carrion, _something is wrong_, Pono thought as he began to see archers beginning to aim their bows at them, which is strange for bows often had a range of one hundred eighty yards at best.

"Leithio i philin!" came the cry from the Ar-Adûnâim lines and arrows flew hitting the front line of their army, to the surprise of Pono as the arrows flew far, almost two hundred and fifty yards and still hit their mark and piercing their leather breastplates and also the leather armors of their horses, Pono saw men dropping by hundreds as many more arrows followed when they reach their lines long lances began to be arrayed those at the front kneeling and pointing the sharp tips at the horses as every member of the combined khalassars began to hurl darts and shoot arrows at the enemy with little to no effect as such projectiles only bounce off to the plate and mail.

Horses only moved forward at the urging of their riders as Pono could see the inevitable, the long lances pierced horse breasts and riders flew and were impaled by a second row of long lances, Pono parried a thrust from those rows of long lances only for the next row to pierce his horse, his pride and joy fell to a cowardly weapon, enraged he began to hack blindly into where ever his blade could meet flesh or what can pass as flesh to these people, but it seems the only thing his _arakh _could do is make a sound as it bounce off on metal.

_Where are they? Where is his khalassar? His brothers-in-arms? _Pono turns and then saw that their army was obliterated, he could see that some of the others had begun to run away, others that have been dismounted or still alive but unconscious were being stabbed by short swords of the enemy, _we are defeated, how? _Pono thought as his hand dropped the _arakh _and he could only feel resignation and defeat as he fell to his knees, a sharp pain was felt on his back and Pono could see a blade through his chest as he began to fell to the ground and darkness began to surround him.

* * *

**Author's note: yeah concerning the use of Sindarin/Quenya language for some of the battle cries, since the Adûnâic language saw limited use in the Tolkien world, apart from Westron which is a descendant of the ****Adûnâic itself, I had to take certain liberties in taking in what could be said as loan words from the Elves as despite being used more frequently before its fall ****Adûnâic also relied much on Sindarin/Quenya loan words, like Anga and Philin which is Iron and Arrow respectively in Quenya/Sindarin, so yeah you can correct me about that since I only use the dictionaries I can research about ****Adûnâic. About the Eket it is a Numenorean short stabbing sword that Aragorn gave to the hobbits in the first LOTR movie.**

**Now to the siege of Mithkadar, as much as possible I try to be close to realism on this since I also wanted to dis-spell some myths concerning sieges, first off its not how it works on M2TW or any other total war games, as much as possible its a series of many things from sorties to even escalation and desperation, second as words don't usually arrive that fast, often times navy wouldn't coordinate in the army if they were being told to besiege a port fortress, city, or castle, so yeah as sea-travel is different than land travel expect the Braavosi fleet to be first.**

**Also concerning the talk scene with the Dothraki Khal it more of a way for Ar-Gimilthôn to further force the Dothraki to do something stupid, a mind game if you will. Also its a good projection to the Dothraki, kind of like 'your people chose me as their leader, so yeah suck my cock' yeah.**

**Oh my head! T_T**

**So yeah Criticisms and Praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


	8. Ar-Palantir II

_**Mithkadar**_

A parley was called by the attackers so both sides decided to meet on a neutral ground and Palantir is now able to see whom the kings of the Iron Throne had sent against them, a sky blue-falcon chasing a white moon, House Arryn, the lords of the Vale, and wardens of the East. "Greetings Phazân-Palantir, I am Lord Donnel Arryn, Warden of the East and Lord of the Vale, I represent the Iron Throne's interests in this conflict" he said as he tries to shake his hand but Palantir only looked at the man before turning his attention to the Braavosi beside him, despite wearing an armor Palantir who the man is because of the key he wore as a necklace.

"It has been many years Master Illynoh Hennah" the representative of the Iron Bank said, an old man of sixty, smiles as he slightly nods to him.

"Indeed it is Phazân-Palantir, although I wish that it shouldn't have been this way I imagine our reunion once more" he said as he cleared his throat and a servant began to produce a paper "our terms here are simple Phazân-Palantir we would be more than happy to leave you and your people alone for the prize of the hills of Andalos and also your settlement of Hurushkadar, also at the same time a limit of your naval activities on the Narrow sea" as Illynoh said those words his Westerosi colleague seem to be nodding at his words.

"It is the best terms that we can offer" Lord Donnel states talking to Palantir as if he were a young man, _how dare he? _The prince thought as he closed his eyes and then breath slowly "we of the Iron Throne only wish that you keep to your part of the Narrow sea which are once of Pentos and also the ceding of the hills and your settlement at the river Rhoyne to Braavos"

"We bleed for those lands, what have you done to earn it?" Palantir demands as his hands clenched hard, "and we protected the Narrow sea far more better than the incestuous degenerate who sits on an ugly throne"

"You will watch your tongue my lord! You are speaking of my king!" Lord Donnel said as Palantir glares at him.

"Not mine king, my lord" he took the proposal of Illynoh Hennah and then tear it down for all to see "I'll see you all in battle my lords, we the sons of Numenor will never surrender nor take one step back" he marched out of the tent quickly followed by his escorts, as an act of graciousness on the side of the besiegers they release their captives as well as give back the bodies of the brave men who fought against them.

"See to it that the dead are to be identified and also given the necessary funeral rites" he orders garrison commander Minlubên who nods in affirmative, as they went back to the city, the expecting men welcomed him their eyes looking up to him, _the way they had looked up to my father_, Palantir thought as he looks at them.

"I understand that this is a trying time..." he said looking at every single person that lives on the city, "...the siege has left us to ration food that we can't even hope to eat Master Beleo's delicious puff pastry and settle down on his twice baked bread" there were some chuckles from the men as Phazân-Palantir smiles as well at that as he raise his hand for them to calm and his eyes turn serious.

"Braavos and their foreign pets from Westeros is besieging our city and has demanded us to cede our lands at the hills and at the river Rhoyne..." the whole crowd jeers and the prince waited for them to stay silent, "I refuse! I refuse their demands, not because it is a disgrace to me as a prince and proxy for my father but because they are spoiling for a fight!" the men began to cheer as Phazân-Palantir raise a hand for them to be silent "Numenor is not a place, it is a people! This kingdom is yours so make it yours! Make it a space! Make it a mass! Make it every fiber of your being, fight for it!"

"Phazân-Palantir!" came the cheers of the crowd as Palantir then calls for them to ready themselves for the battle to come.

A servant came rushing towards him, she pushes herself among the crowd of soldiers and militia and quickly went to his side "my prince, I bring grim news" she said as Palantir quickly went away from the cheering crowd "it concerns the princess-consort" Chagatai was identified by her own daughter, Börte, who is inconsolable as the necessary funeral rites was given to the man _who will never see his grandchild_, Palantir thought as a grim acceptance of death reminded him of the reality, he stayed beside his wife until she had cried herself to sleep.

Night came and the besiegers had decided to launch fiery rocks into the city, in an attempt to bombard them into submission "water! Water! WATER!" cried out Palantir as he began to urge the men to quickly kill the fires that came before it can spread to the city. A cry called out his attention as he quickly followed its source with three guards following him, he saw a small girl weeping at the sight of a house that was hit by the munitions launched by the enemy.

"Mama! Papa!" the girl cries as Palantir and his men approached her, "please help my papa and mama!" the girl said upon seeing them tried to urge them to save her family that is trapped on the burning house, _it is all too late for them_, Palantir thought as he quickly took the girl into his arms then gave her to one of his men.

"Get the women, the children, and the old and take them to the keep!" he orders one of his escorts as his orders were then relayed to the other soldiers who quickly scrambled around in taking the women, the children, and the old to the keep of the city, and it was when the moon is high the enemy artillery had already stopped and all became calm, _next night I would have to lead a sortie to get rid of those catapults_, Palantir thought as he and some of his men began to look at their stores of grain, dried meats, water, and of course the all hallowed fish sauce, the lifeblood of both armies and navy of the Ar-Adûnâim.

"Phazân luckily they didn't hit our stores" Minlubên said although his voice is grim "although I can't say the same for some of our men and also our people" Palantir turns to him.

"Are there any casualties?" he asks and the garrison commander nods.

"fifty were lost to the fires, hundreds more were to be accounted for, a lot of us were injured although minor, thirty two however wouldn't be able to fight tomorrow" Palantir put a hand to his face, _I chose to fight, there is no coming back now_, Palantir didn't sleep the whole night as he thought of the deaths that they sustained on the first night of the siege.

Morning came and as was discussed last week the first wave of their attack came to the Founder's arch. "To your positions men, to your positions!" the sound of chainmail and plate clinking and the bellowing of horns is a song of a city under siege "Kan i phillin!" Palantir orders the archers atop the walls as the enemy approaches with towers and ladders, "send these degenerates to whatever afterlife they prefer!"

The enemy continued to approach and when they are already within ranger of their bows Palantir gave the order "leithio!" his orders were then echoed as the twang of bows and the whistle of arrows delivered death to the advancing foes, shields raised in a futile attempt to stop the arrows from hitting flesh but it was all for naught, "leithio!" Palantir continues ordering the archers to fire.

"Ready the ballistas!" Minlubên cries out as from the towers of their walls ballistas are being loaded with roped bolts connected to weights that will pull down the siege towers "leithio!" he cries out as the bolts flew and hit their mark.

"Take them all down!" the weights began to pull down the towers before they could reach the walls, falling down and crashing those beneath them. The enemy began to back down from their assault.

"Kan! Kan i phillin!" Palantir orders as everyone began to cheer and self-congratulation in the defense of the capital, he turns to the garrison commander "when dusk falls I want you to send the most fleet footed of men to gather arrows, and I want five hundred men to come with me to the south gate" when the darkness of night falls it was time for them to attack.

* * *

**_Walls of Myr_**

Magister Zoutor Ayas had called for the conclave to wave the white flag to their enemies and see if they could negotiate terms. The forces of the Ar-Adûnâim, Lys, and Tyrosh had granted them to negotiate much to him and the conclave's relief, an open pavilion was created at the gardens beneath the walls of the city for them to engage in talks, the conclave and the men of the Ar-Adûnâim, Lys, and Tyrosh came face to face.

Zoutor Ayas had not been one for feasting and merriment but he would have to make an exception for this, as this is supposed to be a talk of peace between the four nations, _and if possible secure ourselves as a nominal vassal of the Adûnâim_, a lot of things can happen after all the king can die in the future years while his son and those next in line can prove to be incompetent _many possibilities, and Myr could once more be free again to her devices_, Zoutor thought as he drink his wine while taking in the sight of feasting, drinking, and fucking as he watched some of the mercenaries partaking in the feast of flesh while they're Adûnâim counterparts only observe and drink even their king was only observing the proceedings with a goblet of wine in hand.

"Ar-Gimilthôn..." a colleague of Zoutor approaches presenting a beautiful, well-formed slave-woman whose every form is _enticement and temptation incarnate itself_, "I present you this gift, a great bed-servant native to our lands but is trained in the arts of pleasure in Lys" Zoutor could swore that he saw a glint of disgust which then quickly turned into amusement as he looked at the man and then to the woman.

"I am afraid I must decline her services as I am married already" he states, while the man laughed in good nature despite the refusal.

"Surely your grace, a simple taste of pleasure is allowed to you, you are a king after all" _kings had proven time and time again to be weak to the call of flesh_, Zoutor thought as the king once more politely refused and sent the man back to his side of the tent.

Ar-Gimilthôn stood up and then raise a glass to everyone in attendance "it is good that we finally reach an agreement where we can resolve our conflict however..." Zoutor Ayas then notices the Adûnâim retinue of Ar-Gimilthôn approached every side of the negotiation tent, "Naru n'aru Sahta a zagar!"

"Azgarâda! Aznêgan!"

The Ar-Adûnâim began to draw their swords and then stab the defenseless colleagues of Zoutor, _what madness is this?! _He thought as he saw the king of the Adûnâim drew his sword from his back and then slashed the throat of the colleague who presented him the pleasure slave, Zoutor tried to fight off an Adûnâim by blocking the man's thrust with a pillow twisting it to the ground and then kicking the man off him, recovering and taking a deep breath he began to run to the direction of the entrance of the tent while the Adûnâim were busy killing his colleagues, there was only one thing on his mind _escape! Escape! _Zoutor took deep breaths as he pulled the silk door of the tent and when he was about to step out, he felt a sharp pain on his back which then traveled further to his front.

A sword was embedded on him and in front of Zoutor's eyes he saw that the mercenaries of Tyrosh and Lys participating in the slaughter alongside the Adûnâim soldiers all of them slaughtering indiscriminately, Zoutor turned his eyes to the star filled sky and away from this horrifying nightmare.

* * *

_**Myr**_

Aegor watched as the gates of the city was finally opened by the men inside the city, "time to earn our gold boys!" he yells as he slammed the visor of his helm down and then kicked his horse on the side as the horns began to blare and everyone of his company gave out a mighty cry from whatever noble house they came from, they galloped and charge as they began to level their lances and they began to crash through the shocked enemies while their allies inside the city make a path for them.

The assault had been reduced to rapine and slaughter as the victorious armies slaughtered anyone who dares to resist them while those who are lacking in discipline and self-control, surrendered to the beastly urges of the flesh as they look for women to take into the open regardless of the slaughter that is happening around them, the Ar-Adûnâim soldiers seem to look at the whole affair with varying degrees of disgust although some seem to participate on the chaos although before they could kill or rape someone indiscriminately an officer and some of his comrades quickly dragged them away red-faced and clearly angry for not being able to have his fun.

"I want every learned men and small merchants to be spared, while those who were related to the rulers of the city be they old, women, and or children be taken to the garden under the walls of Myr"

"By your orders, your grace!"

Aegor approached the king of the Ar-Adûnâim as he orders his soldiers to split up and do what he had just ordered them. "Captain Aegor" he simply greets him as he dismounts his horse and then approaches the king.

"Your grace" he greets back as they marched around the city, observing the now dying fires of chaos, rapine, and slaughter. He had heard of what the Numenoreans would do to the nobility of cities that they had captured, _line them up and kill them without any discrimination_, he had even heard that they would also kill babes just because they were a part of the old nobility.

_Harsh, barbaric, and foolish_, Aegor thought as he imagined how the Ar-Adûnâim can effectively rule over its people if all of the nobility of the lands they controlled are all dead, _not even Aegon the Conqueror himself slaughtered ancient noble families when he ruled Westeros, the fear of dragons was already enough_, as much as nobles often scheme behind a king's back they are still needed to administer a place where the king cannot reach while also at the same time help with securing a king's legitimacy.

"Your men lack discipline" Ar-Gimilthôn said as their armies began to gather up, their hunger of violence finally sated, "you let them run amok killing people left and right indiscriminately" _the same can be said to you_, Aegor thought as the king smiles at him although there was lack of mirth in it.

"You think killing noble families are indiscriminate killings?" the king asked and Aegor nods. The king of the Ar-Adûnâim shook his head "even I find your customs strange too sparing men that would plot and scheme behind your back in the future, as much as I dislike slaughter, it must be done, as much as they have their uses nobles of the old regime are like fungi that if left alone can cause a rot with their schemes and so must be cut off" they once more find themselves at the gardens of Myr where the Numenoreans had gathered the surviving local nobles.

"Have mercy for my son your grace!" came a cry from one of the women as she push her way past the condemned and kneeling in front of Ar-Gimilthôn presenting a babe in front of him "please your grace!" she desperately cries out as the king knelt to her until they are both looking at each others eyes which reminded Aegor of lovers.

_Surely he is capable of mercy_, Aegor thought as he looked at the woman and her boy, not even walking or can lift a sword and yet he knew that the Numenorean king wouldn't be flinching at such a plea for mercy or else what they had just did when they conquered Pentos would lose any significance and meaning.

"Woman, if I spare you and your child you will plot vengeance against me and mine in the future, no matter the circumstances I will not want to regret a day where you and your son is standing over me and my heirs corpses" he said as he stood up "but rest assured my lady by you and your son's blood it shall water a more beautiful meadow"

The woman's eyes turned hateful as she tried to reach for Ar-Gimilthôn's neck only to be pulled away by his guards while her babe was quickly killed and with a nod to all one of his men, the slaughter began as every Adûnâim soldiers shot them with arrows in point blank range making sure that every arrow hit their mark regardless of age or even sex once the screams and pleas of mercy stopped some of the Numenoreans began to approach with spears in hand stabbing every flesh and making sure that everyone was already dead and _not a threat in the future_, Aegor thought as he looked at the king and then hear him whisper a single word.

"_only Eru the creator of all may judge me of my deeds and sins_"

* * *

_**The Narrow sea, near the port of Pentos**_

Huor, son of Talion, can trace his descent from soldiers who accompanied Eärnur in their assault to Minas Morgul but was captured by the Witch-King, when the king of Gondor was killed, his entourage suffered a different fate as some were tortured to death and the others sold to slavery to the lands far south of Middle-Earth. Artamir, the great, great, great grandfather of Talion who is the father of Huor made sure that should any of his men be sold he was with them for better or worse, after many years of suffering at the slave pits of Harad they once more found themselves captured but this time by Numenoreans of the farthest south of Far Harad who took them in and where Artamir and his men had began to settle down and make families in which Huor was a member of.

A fast ship had arrived before they could sail down for the ports and recover, repair, and regather supplies from their patrols and skirmish with pirates. _The Braavosi had decided to be an aggressor and had initiated the conflict_, a conflict with which all of them had been preparing for _although none of us had known that it will come sooner than we anticipated_, Huor thought as their admiral approaches.

"Hoist the sails, prepare the grapples we will go and relieve the port of the capital" Admiral Sakalthôr orders, "we don't have much time to lose skipper, its a two days sail" he said as Huor began to relay his admiral's orders.

A beat was called as the sailors and marines began to sing as they prepare for a voyage "quartermaster!" Huor called as he left the admiral at the helm to drive their ship to Mithkadar.

"Aye first mate!" called Quartermaster Arnubalkân as Huor approached him.

"How are our supplies, repairs, and the morale?"

The fleet Quartermaster rubbed his chin "supplies are good, we can supplement them with what we catch in the sea, however our fleet is lacking with wood used to quickly board the ships should our battle sustain damages, we are in tip top shape first mate although morale is somewhat standing on the eye of the storm whether it goes good or ill I don't know but all of them longs for solid land so aye I understand their concerns" Huor considers it and then nods.

"The winds?"

"They are on our side first mate, Aye I can say it so, our brave admiral is correct in predicting our arrival at the capital port" with that said they return to their duties.

Huor watched as the men go around and make sure that the ship they are in is in shape, sea-men scrubbing the floors or going on lookouts for any vessels that comes their way, boatswains pulling the sails, checking the rigging of the ship while at the same time lead them into a shanty song and while the boatswains and the sea-men sang the officers of the ship seem only content in watching them.

_Hey ho, hey ho, ho ho hey, hey ho, hey ho!_

_She is my love, my love is she_

_Daughter of high-birth is she, of blessed blood_

_Her lips red and full, face and hips well-formed_

_Hey ho, hey ho, ho ho hey, hey ho, hey ho!_

_Our love is true, although I am of the __mud_

_A son of crabbers and fishermen, a child of the sea_

_Hey ho, hey ho, ho ho hey, hey ho, hey ho!_

_A pity I would have to leave her heavy with my child_

_Sing me a song my love!_

_For when I come back I'll be more richer than a king!_

Huor didn't notice it but he was singing along with the men and felt their stares at him, _did I do something? _He looks around then saw there were some disapproving looks from his superior officer and he began to remember an unbreakable rule concerning relations between officers and the common soldiers, _just as heaven and earth cannot reach one another, both officer and common soldier cannot and should not be overly too friendly with one another or engage in a conversation that is inappropriate to a ship at sea_.

_For they will think you weak and permissive to whatever they suggest_, he remembers Admiral Sakalthôr's lessons with a slight bow to his fellow officers "I apologize I didn't notice I was singing along with the common sailors" he simply said and the officers continued on with their businesses while those of the common rank began to sing a different song.

The sail to Mithkadar was full of singing day and night until they finally saw the lighthouse of Mithkadar, and saw its ports being surrounded by ships bearing flags of Braavos with some Westerosi ones which had the banner of its ruling dynasty underneath a banner of a white falcon chasing a moon on a blue field. Approaching the enemy fleet was another fleet of theirs lead by Admiral Balkazîr.

"I want a ship to quickly go to his direction!" Admiral Sakalthôr barks an order to Huor which he quickly relayed to the men, drums began to beat as they began to reverberate messages to the other ships of their fleet. An hour passed and it seems the ship they have sent had reached the other admiral as within sight a banner was waved repeatedly on their far eye and Sakalthôr made sure that a signal flag also relayed a message to them "okay lads we will push towards the enemy, with none the wiser set full sails!" cheers almost drowned out the orders that were now being relayed.

"Set full sails!" Huor relayed the order as everyone began to go to their positions.

"Beat the drums! Set full sails!"

Huor drew his sword as their ship went full speed "a song! sing us a song!" he shouts as every man began to do so.

_Ulmo calls as the waves roar!_

_Ossë blows the winds more!_

_Here we are at the decks of ships, swords at hand!_

_Ready to do battle until we reach the brown sand land!_

_Ulmo grant us passage to Manwë and Mandos, who will judge us worthy should we drown!_

"Are we all but our forsworn kin who are slaves of the Valar that you would sing such a song?!" Admiral Sakalthôr roared as he guides the ship's wheel.

"Nay for we are the King's men!" everyone answered as Huor could see the familiar sails of the enemy, as much as he could consider himself a proud Ar-Adûnâim he still feels to respect the Valar who can grant him audience to Eru.

"Ulmo give us fair winds to win this battle, Manwë, Mandos, judge me worthy to be at Eru's side should I die" Huor whispers that same prayer that his father was taught of by his father before him. Their ship the _Righteous might _slammed head first to the enemy ship.

"Leithio!" hails of missiles flew as the marines fired all that they got on the enemy ships that were shocked to see them "board the ships! Board the ships!"

"Azgarâda! Aznêgan!" the corvis were fired upon the ships and the eager Ar-Adûnâim Azrazairs began to charge through, Huor dodged a spear thrust from an enemy marine before he quickly lopped off the head of the man's comrade, the other enemy ships tried to close in but were otherwise preoccupied by other ships of the Ar-Adûnâim fleet who were either attacking them with catapults and ballista or are boarding them using the corvis. Huor stabbed a man on the gut who then tried to reach his neck if not for him pushing the man away while flicking away the blood on his sword.

"Get back to the _Righteous might_!" Huor called out as he pulled out his horn and then blew it, "get back to our ship and burn this thing to the bottom of the sea!" marines ran back and forth dragging flammable barrels of sailor's alcohol spreading them around particularly at the sails that would quickly catch fire, Huor was given a torch which he quickly used to set the ship alight the corvi was then cut off and everyone was back to their ship, as they continued the battle Huor could see the Narrow sea blazing and boiling hot red with blood, fire, and wood.

* * *

**_Walls of Mithkadar_**

Lord Donnel Arryn could only gripped the reins of his horse tightly as they watched the Ar-Adûnâim fleet drive away their assisting fleet, _they seem to rival the Ironborn in terms of their strength at sea_, the Lord of the Vale thought as he looked at his Braavosi counterpart who looked pale from shock because of the devastation the Ar-Adûnâim fleet caused. Braavos before the settling of the Numenoreans from now had been the only Free city and also a kingdom that could boast a great power in the sea, _and the Ar-Adûnâim straight up shit on that illusion of power_.

"My lords" the two commanders of the combined forces turned, it was Donnel's son, Jasper, who approaches them "our scouts had reported a large force on our eastern flanks" _those might be the army that we routed_, Donnel thought as he looked at the Braavosi beside him.

Illynoh Hennah looked pale and shocked as he looked at the naval battle at sea "Braavos is the most powerful on sea, she cannot be defeated..." the man said over and over again as Lord Donnel Arryn decided to call on him.

"My lord" there was no response.

_He is already broken_, Donnel Arryn thought as the man had to be called a second time before he could respond "we had to call a retreat my lord" he said as the man's attention turns to him, breaking the trance, clearly awestruck by the sight of their supposedly powerful fleet being chased away like a pirate fleet from the Stepstones _that easily_.

"Indeed we should Lord Arryn" Illynoh said as the Lord of the Vale turn back to his son.

"Jasper I want you to call for the commanders to order the retreat, we don't have much time so abandon the camp quickly and ready for a march" Donnel orders as Jasper rides away with haste.

They march away from the Ar-Adûnâim capital of Mithkadar as quickly as they can, although every time they thought they are safely away from the Ar-Adûnâim, the scouts that Donnel would often send would report back that the Numenorean army were mirroring their movements, _hunting us down like were an animal_, Donnel thought grimly as they continued marching on towards the hills of Andalos where they could reconnect with their supply lines that was outstretched at the start of the campaign as they march towards the capital of the Ar-Adûnâim.

"The blasted Numenoreans are bleeding us with a thousand cuts!" Ser Jon Royce spat as he approaches them, "what remains of our baggage we are forced to give up because of the day and night raids the Numenoreans did to us" he grimly said as he looks at Lord Donnel Arryn.

"Can we force our forces to march further?" Illynoh asked and Ser Jon gave a harsh laugh.

"Aye I could coin counter, give me a whip and I can force them to march" the lord of Runestone said, Illynoh wheeled his horse back as he glared at the man, "why have we even fought with you anyway?" Ser Jon states as Lord Donnel Arryn decided to go in between before further harsh words can be said between the two men.

"Ser Jon you don't have to antagonize our friend and ally" he reprimands as the knight just grunts but did what he was told "I want you to go and lead a van at the front of our forces, scout what's ahead of us" the man did so with a nod and a kick on his horse's side. It was a three day march but they were able to reach their destination, their baggage camp where their train would begin its journey to supply their army that was besieging the capital of the Ar-Adûnâim.

"Father!" Jasper called out as he points at their camp, _by the gods old and new_, Lord Donnel thought as he saw what is ahead of them, it was the banner of the Ar-Adûnâim held by a lone horseman who shouted and spat at them.

"Hail to the forsworns of Braavos and their Westerosi dogs!" With a turn six Numenorean soldiers dragged three bodies in front of the horseman. It was the bodies Ser Jon Royce as well as their rear guard that was stationed at the camp, along with the men accompanying the van. The Ar-Adûnâim had overtaken them and had cut off the route to their escape, along with that they had taken their supplies and had obviously taken many prisoners.

_Old gods and new keep us_, Illynoh marched forward "we wish to parley!" he shouts in desperation, and even Lord Donnel could agree with the Braavosi.

* * *

_**211 after Aegon's conquest**_

Palantir had to agree with the parley, if not to hear them but just to further spite them, _image and perception has always been a powerful thing_, Jamukha remembered his father's words, _showing mercy to your subjects is one thing whereas showing it to your enemies is another, the end of it all people will hate you for it_.

"But better be hated by those that will not scheme behind your back" Jamukha whispered as his brother-in-law looks at him, his attention now removed from the setting up of their tent to which the parley will be held, an open tent where every man of their kingdom could see the treacherous Braavosi and his Westerosi pet.

"Did you say something brother?" he asks as Jamukha shakes his head,

"Nay brother only remembering aloud some lessons from my late father"

Phazân-Palantir smiles "the concept of waging a war? Father-in-law always stresses that to me whenever he will march with my father, war cannot be fought with just steel and strength, it is also done with four factors the morale and numbers of the men marching, the availability of food and water, the terrain we found ourselves in, and the absence of disease" Jamukha shakes his head.

"I was more thinking about the power of image and perception of rulers as he once told me when we were observing Uncle Gimilthôn brother" he said as Phazân-Palantir nods in understanding.

"My father is good in actions rather than words, Chagatai however always puts my fathers actions into words" he said as their enemies were now announced by a herald, _here they come_.

Wearing half-plate and mail is Illynoh Hennah, representative of the Iron Bank of Braavos and beside him wearing a heavy plate and mail is the Westerosi lord, Donnel Arryn, Lord-Warden "your grace" Illynoh Hennah began kneeling in front of the prince and heir of the Ar-Adûnâim kingdom "as much as we are enemies now, we were allies and friends once, we beg of you to grant us passage for us to retreat" he begs as Lord Donnel Arryn did so.

"Please consider the friendship between your father and King Daeron, the father of King Aerys your grace" he implores as Phazân-Palantir's face was indescribable until it became mocking.

"Tell me Master Illynoh, Lord Arryn when you marched through our lands treacherously did you even consider the lives of _mine people_? The fields you burned? The women you raped?"

"Those were natural acts of war!" A boy no older than eighteen years that is beside Lord Arryn called out, "and you aren't even of this lands you were all foreigners playing kings to a land you once ravaged!" Phazân-Palantir turned to face the boy.

"Truly we are foreigners then _boy_" he growls, "but did we not freed its people? Did we not provided them with our protection? Did we not shared our prosperity with them? They may not be of our race or of our kin but they are _our people_" that shut the boys mouth as Palantir once more turned to the two leaders. "As you had extended the same amount of propriety to me offering me a choice to surrender and give up land, I shall do the same as well by giving you a choice surrender now and be our prisoners to be ransomed or die on the battlefield"

"That is not a choice so much as demanding us to be slaves!" Illynoh said as he stood "you cannot force us to surrender because of a dispute unless we are at war" _why this insolent?! _Jamukha reached for his sword but was stopped by Palantir raising his hand.

"Dispute is it? I am afraid I do not understand your words Master Illynoh concerning the difference of dispute and war, one is that we are already past disputes, we are already at war, and second in war only complete and total victory shall suffice" with that the parley was over and a battle would have to be done tomorrow.

* * *

**Author's note: I apologize for the late update since, my internet got wrecked and I didn't go online for a month because of that now straight to the whole chapter, concerning The Ar-Adûnâim kingdom's beliefs they are kind of like the early Noldor of Feanor, they loathed the Valar because of some perceived acts of tyranny and also since Morgoth and Sauron were of the same race in their eyes, the ****Ar-Adûnâim practically lumped them all as tyrants who are no better than the two dark lords, second as much as they dumped the Valar, I'm pretty sure they still acknowledge Eru as the _God _of all, but more importantly the god and creator of the world and mankind, because he gave them death and independence, adding in some ancestor worship in the mix you have a hybrid religion that worships ancestors and the big guy up the sky. Anyway now concerning the Numenorean navy, I don't know much so I took in some scripts from Master and Commander concerning crew relationships and other things. About Lord Donnel Arryn, he was the lord of the Vale during the first Blackfyre rebellion and was one of the participants of the Ashford tourney where Baelor Breakspear died at the hands of Maekar.**

**Also some of the conversations in the chapter were inspired by some movies so yeah you can spot them at some point and if you noticed thumbs up.**

**Next chapter I wont be doing the battle of the Andalos hills only discuss the tactics and the aftermath that happened, also some further expansion eastwards and also a discovery of a new threat in the North eastern Essos, I don't want to spoil but still there will be Dothraki-monster fusion so expect them to become ugly and ride wargs.**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


	9. Ar-Palantir III

_**211 after Aegon's conquest**_

_Gimilzôr Azgarzîr _that was the name he had given their son, Gimilzôr his true name, named after his late-uncle who died carrying grandfather away from the Volantene walls, and Azgarzîr or battle-friend is his titular name because of the manner of his birth, _carried by my wife, and born at the end of the siege of Mithkadar_, Phazân-Palantir thought as he remembers holding his son and seeing the small-babe that have his mother's eyes sleep as he cried himself to exhaustion.

_He will have an interesting life_, his wife, Börte, said smiling weakly as Palantir returned the boy back to her breast. "My prince" his attention returned to his men now as they have now returned from a battle he decisively won, _his spurs_, Phazân-Palantir thought as he looks at the man, from his plate and mail and red-plumed winged helmet, an Abrazanim.

"Yes what is it?" he asked as the soldier bowed to him.

"We have gathered our dead and had separated them to the enemy corpses, our injured have also been taken cared of, there is also the matter of the enemy prisoners" they had captured quite a lot of prisoners, particularly the Westerosi ones, knights of lesser houses and also the only son and heir of the Lord Paramount of the Vale of Arryn, "my prince, what do we do with them?"

"Treat the son of the Lord of the Vale of Arryn as you would treat me and mine until a ransom is being offered, the rest shall be put on the dungeons of Mithkadar until they are also ransomed as well" he said as the man bowed before respectfully backing away and leave him be. Palantir turns to his entourage "I wish to walk alone, help with the others in securing and accounting the loot" he orders as his entourage bowed.

"By your orders your grace" Palantir took a deep breath and then went to the direction of the healers' tents. Yesterday's victory was decisive, desperation of both Braavosi and Westerosi forces made them easy to be lured by their Variag horse archers and rangers who quickly retreated to the rank and file of the tough Rozadan and Abrazanim infantry who finished the battle _or slaughter_.

Phazân-Palantir enters the tents of the wounded where every healers tried to save a life while their assistants comfort those who cannot be saved, the stench of blood, urine, feces mixed with strong herbs used for healing was strong as Palantir only watched and observed the comings and goings of the healers' tent, "your grace!" gasped a man nearby as his grey eyes turned and then saw a man lying on the bed coughing and gasping, the nurses had long since abandoned him to his fate.

The man had a Valyrian tattoo on his back and also his front, _an ex-slave_, Palantir thought as he approached the man "yes Rozadan?" he asked as the man smiles and then gestures for a water bottle that was next to him.

He was certain the man is a Rozadan, from the broken pieces of scale armor on the man's side and the winged mail helm on top of his tunic, he was certain that the man was one of the border armies that joined them in their recent battle.

"Some water your grace" the man said as he quickly gulped it down before hacking out a cough once more, "they say that I will not be seeing tomorrow" the man said as Palantir could only try and reassure the dying man.

"What do healers know? You will live to see tomorrow, go home and tell your children of the battle that you had fought, I am sure of it because I tell you that" _lies to reassure a dying man _the prince thought as the man only shakes his head,smiling, as he tries to sit up but the effort was lost "you should try and get some rest" Palantir states as the man shakes his head.

"I don't want to die in a tent full of dying men your grace..." the man groans, "I want to go outside your grace and die seeing the sky" Phazân-Palantir nods as he decided to help the man to his feet and both of them left the tent and then away from their temporary encampment although not away where it can't be considered safe, the man breathes deeply as he began to see the sky now darkened by the setting sun. "I was once a slave..." the man tells Palantir, "I...was born of thirteen siblings in one of Volantis' territories and out of wanting to get rid of another mouth to feed my father sold me to the Volantene markets..."

The man coughs as he continues "...my...my first...first master was kindly treated me as a human, taught me how to read and write and count my numbers but he became bankrupt and was forced to sell me, my...second...master was the same although he was just wearing it as a...a...mask for he was perverted in all his desires and would use his kindly facade to trick men and women into his bed...when I refuse his advances I...I was sold...to...a...a Pentoshi warehouse owner who treated me like an animal, I learned...of...of the sufferings of slaves then...until I was once more sold to a farmer...who to show his dominance to...to...others that he deem below would have us watch other slaves whipped for his own amusement" tears began to flow freely to the man's eyes.

"You don't have to tell your story Rozadan, you have earned your rest" Palantir said not wanting the last moments of the man to be that of horrifying experiences of his past, but the man simply shook his head.

"No...no your grace, I will tell you mine story for I wish...you...to...to..." a cough that expelled blood came "...hear of it..." he said weakly and then continued on with his tale "when your...people came I just thought that you are our new masters, no different than the last ones, under different colors but the same whip...but it was all...all different" the man said laughing but all of it was only rewarded by a cough "you and your father may have ruled with an iron fist but it is a fair...one...no ruler had ever answered injustices done to a common man...no...no...ruler rewards his loyal subjects be they merchant or poor, you are all different you treated us as if we were your people...when you are but foreigners, no kings would do that" the man smiles as he looks at him.

"Your grace before I die, I wish to...to...request...something" the man said as Palantir nods, "There is a woman back at a farmstead of...Abanrîdh...she bears a child of mine, I...I...don't want to die leaving her with nothing...but...an...an...unattended land...and...a...child no better than a bastard"

"Rest assured Rozadan they shall be provided for, I swear to it" Phazân-Palantir said looking at the dying man in the eyes as the man once more nods, a close of the eyes and then a final sigh.

"Thank you your grace..." Palantir could have swore that he saw the man's soul leaving his body, hale and hearty, skin unblemished by all the sufferings that he had experienced before traveling to where the wind would carry him, _a first of your many burdens_, the prince thought as he made sure that the now dead man's head would softly lie on the ground.

"Your grace are you alright?" it was his brother-in-law, Jamukha, followed by a female healer, Palantir nods as he stood.

"I want every one of our dead accounted for" Palantir orders the female healer, "I will give up the share of my loot and give it to the families of our dead, make sure that the healers and the officers took note of every single one of our casualties, where they are from, who are their families and the rest" he said as he then turns to the dead body "I will lead the funeral for our dead a well, this man was a hero honor him" Palantir turns and leaves to the main tent followed by Jamukha.

* * *

_**Pentos**_

After arranging the governance of Myr and making sure that there is order in the city by appointing a trusted Numenorean as Bênkadar and leaving a garrison that will prevent lawlessness and chaos and also make sure that the populace would accept their rule. Ar-Gimilthôn marched north at the head of an army, a two weeks march which made them arrive at Pentos.

_They have an issue with Braavos to take care of_, Ar-Gimilthôn thought as he was welcomed by his family that left the capital when it was besieged by Braavos and their Westerosi allies, the Bênkadar of Pentos, Vyrio Anerys, and the commander of the Abrazanim of the city, Ûrîzîr son of Nilûbên. "Welcome your grace" his wife Lyssandra said bowing slightly along with the twins.

Ar-Gimilthôn helped his wife up "are you alright my dear?" he asked as the woman just smiles and embraces him.

"We are fine although worried for our son who was left on Mithkadar with his wife, I lose sleep because of worry dear husband" Lyssandra said as he held her close and the king of the Ar-Adûnâim then turns his attention towards the Bênkadar and the Abrazanim commander who began to stand in attention.

"I shall make sure that you are graciously given thanks for your service to me" he said as the two only bowed to him.

"We only did what loyal subjects should do your grace" the two said as Ar-Gimilthôn nods before Ûrîzîr son of Nilûbên looked up, "your grace I was supposed to give this to her grace, since you have arrived it should be my duty to bring you news concerning the siege of Mithkadar and a battle that came after it" the man then produced three scrolls which he then gave to Ar-Gimilthôn who began to unroll and read its contents.

"Congratulations to your son's victory in the siege of Mithkadar and also the hills of Andalos your grace" Abrazanim Commander Ûrîzîr said as Ar-Gimilthôn read the details of the battles his son had fought from the walls of Mithkadar to the hills of Andalos where he decisively destroyed the combine might of Braavos and Westeros.

_My son has just killed Lord Donnel Arryn and captured his son, along with other lesser known Westerosi houses_, the king of the Numenoreans thought as he read the letters of his son and then reading a paragraph concerning the battle at the hills of Andalos, _he had also killed the representative of the Iron Bank, Illynoh Hennah_, it was an unexpected news he was not one to say that his son did a great job or a bad one, moreover Braavos will have more reasons to even try and assert their dominance over them and Westeros would even try to challenge them further at sea, _a problem that I would have to discuss with him later on_.

"We have won a great victory not just against Myr but also against the treacherous Braavosi and our Westerosi _friends_" Ar-Gimilthôn declares, _but_ _where does it takes us? _He thought as cheers came from the crowd and he began to hold out his hand silencing them, he gestured to loyal Arnubên Hornwood.

"Bring in the spoils of war!" Arnubên shouts as men behind the column began to bring the spoils they had taken to the defeated Myrish. Gold coins and baubles, silver bracelets and rings with the rarest of jewels crested to them, Myrish mirror goblets and other valuables, as the people of Pentos stared in awe at it Ar-Gimilthôn then steps between them.

"The first of the loot shall be given to the widows and orphans of the men, then to their comrades, what remains shall be of the people" he then gestures to his army, smiling grandly at them "these are your heroes! Welcome them with respect and honor that they are due" he shouts as once more the people of Pentos cheers and lets the quartermasters of the army to share the spoils they have taken.

"That is quite a grand gesture husband" Lyssandra said as they were led to a manse that was built for the Bênkadar of Pentos.

Ar-Gimilthôn snorts and shakes his head, _the people needed to be reminded often who rules them, who protects them, who provides for them, it ensures the stability of our line while at the same deter any schemers and traitors_, the stick and the carrot can be a powerful and fearful thing but a fearful populace cannot be trusted when cracks begin to show on one's kingdom so sometimes a ruler must find a balance between "you think its too much my wife?" he asks as the once Volantene slave now queen consort shakes her head.

"No my dear, only that you should be selfish for one day, your men cannot blame you for that you've already earned it" she said as the king could only smile at her words.

"When was I ever selfless my dear wife?"

* * *

_**Hills of Andalos**_

Jasper Arryn cling on to his father's corpse, _this wasn't supposed to be this way_, he thought as he gripped the dead body tighter holding it closer as if afraid that if he slackens the body would disappear "here it is your grace, the son of the late Lord Arryn refusing to give us his father's body for a burial" _more of a burial for a criminal more like_, Jasper thought as he found himself once more face to face with Phazân-Palantir who stood with their guards who had been trying for days to try to get him to give up his father's body for a burial, _a burial where no one would remember his deeds save for his own son and warriors that followed him_.

"I will not part with my father's body even if it caused disease to me and the others!" he growls out, glaring at the prince and heir of the Numenoreans who seem unimpressed by this feat or rather a tantrum born of grief.

"Your father wouldn't want you to cling on to his body, letting it rot and killing you" Palantir said as he gestured for two of his men who quickly decided to force themselves into taking the body of Lord Donnel Arryn away from his son.

"No! I will not let you desecrate his body further! No!" Jasper tried to fight his captors off but he was too weak and all he got was a shove and swords pointed at him as his father's body was dragged away from him, "you will pay for this!" he desperately shouts and cries as he tries to charge towards Phazân-Palantir, if he will lose his father's corpse then better yet to join him in the seven heavens.

Yet it was not to be as he found himself pushed aside by the man's guards "your father is dead, his soul has already come to the halls of Eru and the only thing you can do for him is to ensure that his body is given the respect it deserves" Palantir said as he nods to the guards who quickly relaxed their stance as Jasper could only grunt and cry, letting his father's body be taken from him.

"I swear by the Seven I will avenge my father!" Jasper cries out as the guards began to draw their swords and then was about to cut him down, _let me be with my father in the next life you bastards! _Jasper glares as Palantir looks at him with interest as he raises his hand to stop his escorts from cutting the now Lord Arryn down.

"Your rage and grief is understandable, but know that your threats are noted" Palantir said as he watches the body of his father get taken away, "your father is a brave man, foolish but brave, if circumstances are different maybe we could have converse but the current situation demands that I fight" he sadly said and Jasper could only feel a twinge of regret at throwing those oaths of vengeance.

Turning around to leave Phazân-Palantir let his men take away the body of Jasper's father "can I attend the funerary rites?" Jasper decided to ask as the prince of the Ar-Adûnâim could only nod before leaving the tent.

Night came and the next day comes as Jasper was awoken and lead towards a mass grave of the men who fought in the battle two days ago, a banner of the Numenoreans was held high with the banners of Braavos and House Arryn and House Targaryen held low, all of them borne by Numenorean standard bearers as they let Jasper pass to pay his respects to the dead. _We could have won the battle_, Jasper thought as he knelt down and then prayed for the souls of those who fought with him, _oh gods why have you abandoned us? _He demands as he stood up and then looks towards Westeros wondering what has been happening now to his home while he was captured.

* * *

_**King's Landing**_

The Red Keep was in chaos as a letter was sent to King Aerys Targaryen by Phazân-Palantir calling for an armistice and demands of gold and silver for the ransom of the captured Lord Jasper Arryn and the knights that fought with him, it had been a week now ever since the king of Westeros had ordered the men of House Arryn to assist Braavos in their escalation of conflicts with the Ar-Adûnâim all for the prize of cutting off some of the debts the Iron throne had with the Iron bank of Braavos.

_A group of people from Sothoryos had just defeated us, and laid low the Braavosi in their power at_ sea, Aerys thought as he once more sat on the small council "this is rather disturbing news your grace, my lords" Brynden Rivers said as he set two letters in front of the table, "with the death of Lord Donnel Arryn and the capture of his son and heir, there had been reports of the ancient mountain clans of the Vale of Arryn emboldening their raids across the now unguarded countryside" with the bulk of the forces of the Vale joining their lord for the campaign against the Ar-Adûnâim, Lord Donnel Arryn had only left a small army on his border to conduct patrols none of which were enough to suppress the mountain clans.

"We cannot accept these demands, it would make House Targaryen weak" his brother Maekar said as Aerys shakes his head angry as the small council argues.

"And if we do not accept their demands then we would lose the Vale of Arryn to the mountain tribes!" Aerys snaps at his brother who was taken aback by it along with the other members of the small council, _I might be bookish and timid, but I am still a dragon_, Aerys thought as he saw Brynden rereading the contents of the letter sent by Phazân-Palantir.

"It seems your grace, the prince of the Adûnâim are far more lenient in their demands" Brynden said as he began to speak the most important parts of the letter "ransom for their captured hostages and also armistice isn't what a victor would often demand to the defeated" even Maekar the most hotheaded of his brothers became thoughtful of it as blessed silence came to the small council chambers.

"It is because they are saving the heavy hand for Braavos" Aerys concluded, ransoming captured hostages, particularly the Lord Paramount of the Vale of Arryn, would likely warm the relations between the Adûnâim and Westeros, along with the fact that the armistice would further allow an indefinite peace and space for the Iron throne to collect their breath and strength.

Aerys rubbed his beard and then looked at Maekar, _with the capture of the heir of Lord Donnel Arryn, the Vale had descended into chaos and who would be better to take care of it than the Iron throne itself_, it was an opportunity to strengthen their position further should it be successful that is "I want the Grand Maester to write a letter to the maester of the Eyrie tell him that in the absence of the Lord Paramount of the Vale and all the other lords that dwell therein, my brother Maekar Targaryen will assume overall regency and make sure that the Vale will return in order out of the chaos caused by the savage mountain clans"

Maekar stood and then bowed to Aerys "I will make sure that order is restored in Vale of Arryn brother" he said as Aerys turns to Brynden.

"How many men can we assemble to assist my brother in bringing order to the mountains of the Vale?" he asks to his Hand and Master of Whispers who took a drink from a goblet before replying quickly to the king.

"About five thousand your grace, large enough to quell the mountain clans of the Vale while at the same time not large enough for the Valesmen to billet them in their cities and castles" Aerys and Maekar nods at this as he stood up.

"I would like you to send a letter to Ar-Gimilthôn and Phazân-Palantir, tell them that we will ransom their captured hostages and grant them armistice with a possibility of-" there was a knock on the door and a foot man entered the room his face frantic.

"Your grace, my lords they were-!"

Two wizened old men wearing blue and holding staffs push their way from the foot man, Aerys knew of them, ever since the meeting between his father and the Adûnâim they had always been at the side of Ar-Gimilthôn. _Brynden had told me that he had men watch them_, Aerys remembers their audience to him when Maekar brought them before him, Aerys had demanded why they are here and which they told him that had very much concluded their services to Ar-Gimilthôn since they had accomplished their mission which is to give a home to the Adûnâim and the Variags, still Aerys kept a close eye on them through Brynden who reported that despite being recluse the two had friends on high places.

_From the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and the Lord Paramount of the North and even the Citadel of maesters at Oldtown, this two old men do not lack for friends_, Aerys thought as he remembers reading their letters they sent to their friends that Brynden had later intercepted.

"Your grace I believe we can have an answer to your current problem concerning the Vale of Arryn and also the Ar-Adûnâim" Pallando said as he enters the room with his colleague, Alatar.

"Brother-" Maekar tried to warn but Aerys gave him a look that put him back to his sit.

"Do explain" he said as the two bowed slightly to him and gave their answer to their predicament.

"We have traveled on the Vale of Arryn for some time and had come into contact with friendly mountain clans and as much as they are willing to fight for their land they know that reclaiming it is a lost cause" Pallando said as he produced a paper.

"Speak your piece old man" Aerys said as Alatar decided to take over the conversation.

"If you grant us your blessing we can secure an agreement with the Ar-Adûnâim to exchange their captured hostages for these mountain clans who are willing to sail for Essos and swear their allegiance to them" Alatar said as everyone in the small council began to erupt into uproar.

"Scum! Ar-Adûnâim spies!" Ser Donnel of Duskendale roars followed by shouts of approval by the others, while the two old men seem to be silent and just accepting of whatever insults were thrown to them as if they were patient parents of a child making a tantrum in public.

"Enough! Enough!" Aerys and Brynden roars as the small council once more became silent, Brynden took the paper that Pallando presented before them and then read it gasping as he quickly gave it to Aerys who also did gasp upon looking at the words in paper.

_A list of mountain clans who were willing to leave Westeros and their reasons for doing so_, while it would diminish the fighting force of the mountain clans that had been a bane of the Vale lords existence it would inevitably increase arms and swords for the Numenoreans who would use them willingly to further control Essos and the Narrow sea "you expect us to just accept this for what it was?"

Alatar and Pallando smiles "because it is too good of a deal your grace, you don't have to offer them money since they would only use them to invest more and more in arms and ships whereas by offering them people you would present mouths for them to feed and also problems on how to settle such people in their kingdom, while at the same time you will have less problems once you send your forces at the Vale" Aerys could only rub his chin at that don't know whether or not to be convinced by the proposition of these madmen or to consider throwing them out like the madmen they are.

"I will consider your proposal good men" Aerys simply say as the two old men slightly bowed. The king of Westeros turns to Brynden "I want you to create a new proposal for the Ar-Adûnâim" he orders as Brynden bows while Aerys then turns to his brother Maekar "you will still go to the Vale to restore order there brother, while at the same time make sure that the mountain clans that are willing to leave Westeros are granted safe passage towards the ports of Gulltown" Maekar could only nod although his eyes could tell that he didn't like the situation.

* * *

_**Rhoyne river, 215 after Aegon's conquest**_

Mors watched the ranger as he quickly finished his survey turning towards a partner who quickly draw lines on a paper, _a map_, Mors remembers himself as he had often ferried such ever since his father had left the barge to him, he watched as the man began to write in their queer language of theirs while at the same time muttering something in it "we go back now" the surveying ranger orders Mors who quickly shifted the paddle of his barge.

There was something strange coming from the further east that made the presence of Berúthiel's rangers more prevalent here in the river Rhoyne, some Dothraki Khalassars had been reported further trying to expand or from what Mors had heard to some other traders from Qohor fleeing to something in the great Dothraki sea, not that Mors will concern himself of such.

The Rhoyne river had never became more safer ever since the Numenoreans came, while of course there were those who resisted but as years go by most of them had began to accept the rule of the Ar-Adûnâim and their king, Ar-Palantir. Mors remembers those times when the Berúthiel's rangers arrived in his small fishing village asking for their village elder and demanding that they pay taxes and give a signed oath of loyalty to their king, some of the people refused and resisted, and so were made an example of, Mors remembers he and his father look at the roads filled with macabre forests of gallows filled with hanged men and their families.

_And the mother Rhoyne weeps of the blood of her children_, Mors remembers the river being filled with corpses but the now blue hue of the river seems to have forgotten all memory of blood, fire, and corpses, it was not just slaughter that happened then some time after the first revolts in the Rhoyne river had died down, the Ar-Adûnâim wasted no time in creating forts and walled towns that became the primary bulwarks of the Rhoynish people, the soldiers of the Ar-Adûnâim have begun protecting their people from Dothraki raiders and bandits _albeit with a prize_, Mors thought as he always remembered his father having to pay exorbitant taxes to the forts and they seem to also do not tolerate cruelties of their own, there was this one time where one of their own had raped and butchered a girl of six and ten, men of the Rhoyne were angry and vindictive, they demanded justice which was then given by the fort commander who had the man, a Numenorean ranger, arrested and when investigation showed evidence that the man truly did it, he was stripped of his honors as a ranger and was hanged in front of a watching populace.

"Here good man" the ranger said giving Mors a pouch of gold in payment of his services.

"Thank you my lord" Mors said smiling and slightly bowing as the ranger simply nods and then left with his companion, hoods up and bows slung on their backs with swords on their sides as they leave the Rhoynish man be.

Mors began to fish for a coin to the pouch, he lifted a coin up and then examined it, a silver coin that was engraved with a blazing sun which is defaced by a script in the Numenorean language for their homeland, an island called Numenor which had then sank so long ago. Mors could tell that the coin is pure silver, his father had even weighed it on the town market and he was always astounded at how it is different with other coins that was always payed to him by other people.

"Father! Welcome back!" Mors attention then came to his daughter rushing towards him and giving him a crushing hug.

"Serala! My dear!" he crows over his daughter as he returned her hug "looks like all of us will have a feast tonight!" he said as he showed the pouch of silver coins to his daughter who smiles at it clearly impressed.

"Oh, oh can we buy sweets?" Serala asked enthusiastically as Mors nodded smiling and after tying up the boat, father and daughter proceeded towards the village market, eager to buy what they can buy for their dinner.

* * *

**Author's note: replying to the review of Random Dude, the concept of freeing slaves to the Numenoreans here is not because of some idealistic flights of fancy, these were High men/Numenoreans after all, they practically enslaved people not just from the south but also in the north, its more along the lines of PR and pragmatism, freeing slaves would legitimize their position as rulers of the people while at the same time have willing bodies that would do work for them, since this was in the first chapter it was more along the Mongol tactics of human wave, where practically they use the large numbers of slaves within the city to revolt, it would also put them into a leveled dialogue with their current neighbor which is Braavos and Westeros all of which has no slavery, and also the ****Ar-Adûnâim here were practically just a faction in a Medieval 2 total war mod which is Third age Total War: Divide and Conquer, so yeah here it is.**

**I was having a conflict concerning whether to leave the King's Landing part as it is or not, since it would be nigh unbelievable for the Iron Throne to just take the offer of the two blue wizards for granted or even accept that the two had just parted ways with the Numenorean royal family so yeah, you can tell me either leave it or change it.**

**Criticisms and praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


	10. Ar-Palantir IV

_**215 after Aegon's conquest**_

Palantir watched as the flames of his father's funeral pyre had died down, _may his soul finds its way to Eru's side_, Palantir thought. Ar-Gimilthôn died sitting on the new Nimloth watching his son and grandson playing around the tree, _I am ready_, so his father's last words said to him, _and yet I do not feel ready_, Palantir thought as he stood in front of the people "long live the king!" came the cry of Arnubên Hornwood and was followed by the crowd.

"Ar-Palantir! Ar-Palantir! May you be steel of mind, and warm of heart, Ar-Palantir! Ar-Palantir! rule us all like the great kings of old Numenor!" his wife approaches him with a scepter of Armenelos who she gave to him.

"Let this scepter be a symbol of your right to rule over us oh king of Numenor" Börte said as Ar-Palantir accepted the scepter, his mother Lyssandra then approaches him with a crown on her hand, a copy of the crown of Ar-Pharazôn the Golden, a golden helm with a jewel on its center.

"It is a poor copy of the crown of your great sire's but let this crown be worn as proof that you are the true heir of Numenor" she said as Ar-Palantir knelt and allowed his mother to crown him, _I kneel before them as man and now I shall rise as a king_.

"Hail Ar-Palantir, long may you reign over us all!" came the cries as he turns to the people _he will rule_. Arnubên then raised high Ar-Palantir's personal banner, a golden sun on the black field with the tengwar script of Numenor on the four corners of the banner.

"After the death of my grandfather, and my uncle, my father became your king and lead us all through thick and thin..." he looks at every expectant faces to him as he breathes in the air "...through thick and thin, through suffering, starvation, and disease we endured now we are here on this new lands, new worlds which do not know the light of Numenor" he said as he drew his father's sword, the sword of Berúthiel's line, Gimilzagar "and so it lays to us to show them not just our might but also the light of our fallen island, upon this spot shall I build a mausoleum for my father, but it shall also not be only a mausoleum it shall be a place of learning where every man, woman, and child across the corner of our kingdom can learn of many things and share this knowledge across this new word" he withdrew Gimilzagar and Ar-Palantir was applauded and cheered once again.

After the funeral and coronation ceremony Ar-Palantir, now the head of the House of Ar-Pharazôn, went back to his halls with his family and courtiers "now what matters of state should we discuss hmm?" Ar-Palantir states as he seats on his throne and watched the clusters of people who began to whisper among themselves before turning towards him.

It was a problem that Ar-Palantir inherited from his father with the rise of their kingdom came the rise of factions in their court, people with interests or those who just represent them, factionalism was never a problem in the politics of the Ar-Adûnâim when they were back in Arda since all factions agreed on one thing only then which is to defeat the Deceiver and his armies and then crush the usurpers of Gondor and the fallen kingdom of Arnor, now here on a new world the factions that rose were all about keeping the status-quo or the creation of checks and balances to the king, even radical change on how to govern, but if there is one thing the factions agreed with is that they will have to survive on this new world, an exploit Palantir wouldn't hesitate to use.

Before anyone could present a case it was Arnubên who decided first to approach him "your grace, as you know I have served your father and your family as steward of the kingdom, as much as I am honored to confront problems of the state in your name, there are certain affairs that should be delegated to someone who knows it more..." he took a deep breath as he produced a scroll and then presented it to the king who unrolled it.

It was a written treatise and records concerning the taxation of the kingdom and its currency "as much as we had taxed the extent of our kingdom to create infrastructure and what not, I have learned that we are running on a deficit because of inflation and devaluation of silver" Arnubên states as Ar-Palantir continued to read the scroll "your grace we need a treasurer that can look out for our taxation and currency" _what burdens have you given me father_, Ar-Palantir sighs as he rolled the scroll and then looks at his steward who bows deeply not meeting his eyes.

"I assume that you know someone who will become our treasurer?" the new king of the Ar-Adûnâim asked as the man nods.

"Indeed your grace, I would recommend the services of Master Illyrioh Mopatis, son of Rego Mopatis of Pentos, he knows the comings and goings of the markets, the ports, the streets, the roads, and the highways of our kingdom to serve you well" Ar-Palantir was surprised at this, he expected the man to recommend his future in-laws who were of Adûnâim descent not some merchant's son of old Pentos.

Illyrioh Mopatis is a young man of twenty six years of age, tall and with some brush of a beard, once a hostage of the Ar-Adûnâim as collateral for his father's debt to the king, the man had been educated in their ways and have even professed a love of their culture he had married a Variag woman and became a port officer due to his success to the bureaucratic examination that Ar-Palantir's father put for people of non-Numenorean descent, he is quite a likable person, Ar-Palantir knows because the man has always been at court as both of them grew up to be men.

Illyrioh Mopatis steps in with a bow "Master Illyrioh do you accept my steward's recommendation of your person?" he asks as the Pentoshi bowed.

"It would be an honor your grace" the man said as Ar-Palantir looked at his steward who nodded approvingly of the man.

"Master Illyrioh you are now given charge to the king's treasury, may you be honest and stalwart, if you are proven lacking on this job then pray to Eru that he may give you a swift a death for we do not take kindly to liars and cheats" Ar-Palantir then gave the key of the treasury to the Pentoshi who accepted it with reverence before returning to Arnubên's side.

The next talks of the court became nothing more but disputes between the three factions that had emerged upon the consolidation of Ar-Gimilthôn of their kingdom, the Naru n'aru or faction of the king led by himself through Arnubên, the second is called the faction of the kindred led by the Variag, Khusraw and Ar-Palantir's brother-in-law, Jamukha, son of Chagatai, and the third and last of this faction was called the Barim faction or the bastard faction made up of Pentoshi and Myrish merchants as well as some affluent half-breeds that came here from their diaspora at King's Landing.

"The rangers of Berúthiel had been overlapping in their meddling of the affairs of merchants!" said the leader of the Barim faction Alyn Waters, "it is not their place to trouble merchants with their inspections and demands for taxes shouldn't it be the responsibility of proper officials to do so?"

"The nerve of this greedy and filthy half-breed!"

"Your mother should have just swallowed your father's load!"

If there is one thing the two factions can agree upon is that both can overwhelm and bully the third faction which composed of outsiders from their perspective, while some members of the Naru n'aru were Pentoshi, Northmen, or even Myrish all of these members embraced the Adûnâim cause and culture giving common cause with the Numenorean members of the king's faction, the Kindred however were composed of Numenoreans and Variags only and would not hesitate to remind Ar-Palantir that they alone suffered alongside his family to create the kingdom for what it is now.

The often ganged up Barim faction was created out of common cause by Pentoshi merchants, now joined by Myrish ones and half-breeds of the King's Landing diaspora, all of them wanted to be seen and treated of the same status as the Numenoreans and Variags much to the disgust of the other two factions. "Enough! Enough!" came the cry of Ar-Palantir "we are at court not some low-income tavern with cheap drinks and cheaper whores" chuckles came then silence as the king's eyes turn to Alyn.

"Berúthiel's rangers protects the roads and the countryside from bandits and marauding khalassars of the Dothraki and other invading forces, they also uphold law and order in this kingdom part of which is to inspect merchants of their goods and also to demand a tariff of those goods" there were some calls of affirmation from the two factions and Ar-Palantir raised his hand to silence them "unless such powers of theirs are abused which base on the reports of my good steward there is none then I will not call upon the good Captain Adûnabêl to answer for such perceived abuses of power, but I will consider your proposal of delegating the task of inspections and tariffs to someone with abilities" his attention then turn to Arnubên and Illyrioh "This court is adjourned" he simply said as he simply wave his hand to dismiss them except for his steward and treasurer who remained.

"You bid us to remain your grace" Arnubên asked alongside Illyrioh.

"Indeed I do my friends" Ar-Palantir said smiling as the three friends began to chuckle and laugh, "Eru save me! Now I understand why father is bent out of shape" Palantir exclaimed as both of them began to relax.

"The good Alyn is right though" Illyrioh states as the two turn on him, "as much as the rangers are doing a good job in patrolling and safeguarding the whole kingdom, but they are overstretched and I fear that certain responsibilities should be delegated as you your grace had assured good Alyn"

"Unless you want the Kindred to throw an epic tantrum I wouldn't advise giving it to someone from the Barim" Arnubên said and Ar-Palantir shook his head.

"My brother-in-law is one of the Kindred's leaders they step out of the line, he knows whom to side" Palantir said as he calls for a servant to bring them food and wine, "anyone among the Barim had taken the Bureaucratic exam?" Palantir asked Arnubên who began to call one of the servants who quickly produced a list.

"From what I can gather your grace is that the inner leadership of the Barim have taken the Bureaucratic exam, while the rest were just fillers to create the faction itself, although..." his steward began to skim through the list "there are three who have taken the Bureaucratic but are not part of the Barim leadership" he said as a servant arrived with food and wine.

"Take the one who certainly knows his numbers make him an assistant of Illyrioh" Palantir said as he took a silver pitcher and then filled a goblet with his wine, "it may look like we are throwing the Barim some scraps but a dog wouldn't complain so to a cat who has been fed fresh fish" Palantir states as he took a drink.

"What are my assistant's responsibilities then your grace?" Illyrioh asks as Palantir took a fork and then poked a grape from a salad.

"Collecting coin and goods, he will make sure that everything is in order and is of the right amount while you make sure he or those under you are not stealing in our treasury" he said as he popped the grape to his mouth "believe me my cats may be everywhere around this city but they are not around the kingdom" he said as he ate a lettuce relishing the salads vinaigrette.

"There is also a matter of Westeros your grace" Arnubên began as Palantir stopped poking a green of his salad.

"What of Westeros? Is there another Blackfyre rebellion?" Palantir asked as his steward shakes his head.

"No your grace, with the quick suppression of the Blackfyre rebellion led by Daemon the younger, the Blackfyres led by Aegor hesitates to launch another attack although there has been quite an unrest in Westeros this concerns with the treatment of Daemon the younger" _should have just beheaded the young man_, a Numenorean then arrived carrying with him a cat on a cage, _one of my father's gifts to the late King Daeron_.

"The cat came from a ship that left the ports of King's Landing your grace" the man said as he presented the caged cat to Palantir who quickly released it, the queen hissed at Palantir while he began to chant in bastard Quenya, _a language his ancestor Berúthiel taught to her son who then taught to his children until Palantir's father_.

"Interesting..." Palantir whispered to himself as the cat told him of the affairs of the Red Keep, _Maekar and Aerys disagreeing with what to do with Daemon the younger, tensions in the streets of King's Landing exploited by Blackfyre supporters_.

"How is our navy?" Palantir asked his steward who quickly stopped chewing his chicken.

"Its in tip-top condition your grace although it is overstretched" the answer made Palantir rub his chin in deep thought, _ever since the Istari brought the mountain clans from Westeros on our doorstep, our problems came from settling them down and making sure that they will not cause any trouble for us_, still the mountain clans have been cordial and loyal at best providing the manpower needed to create more roads and towns that will lead to Mithkadar, they have also helped with the manning of their forts at the border becoming invaluable scouts and light infantry.

"How long till we can build a new fleet of ships?" Palantir asked as Arnubên began to call for a servant to call for a servant to produce a current report concerning the gathering of timber, metal, and wool, the important resources needed to build a ship but were now used for homes and also trade to make sure that their hold in the Flatlands and the Rhoyne river is secure as ever.

"About the next five years your grace, not unless we can miraculously solve our deficit problems" Arnubên said as Palantir's attention then turn to Illynoh _since I have a treasurer might as well use him_.

"It seems I would have to use Illynoh's expertise now" Palantir said as he asked for a paper from a servant, "I want a survey and a census to be done in the kingdom, I want to know what every man owns, the size of his property and his family, what land and waters we have has the necessary resources we need everything, leave no stone unturned, no ground untouched" he said as he produced a royal writ presenting it to Illynoh "the rangers will assist you with the survey, other than that you will have to look for someone to assist you in the census and analysis"

Illynoh bows "it will be done your grace" Palantir nods and then decides that their private meeting is adjourned.

* * *

**_Mithkadar_**

Jamukha looks at his sister who seems to be happy as she help with her first born son with looking at his brother, _quite peaceful_, he felt himself sigh it was easy going around the kingdom and fighting wars to protect it while at the same time hard to become a man of peace and make sure that the new king is safe from the dangers that come within ruling the realm, _safe from miscreants and plotters_.

Wars were easier than this, as their kingdom now has consolidated its borders against outside threats it was now time to deal with what is inside them, the creation of a new monetary system backed by silver, making sure that their bank can compete against both the Iron bank and the Rogare bank, encouraging more and more mercantile expeditions further east, at the same time making sure that the mountain clans brought by the Blue Wizards are settled within their lands, it was a time of many happenings all of them either interesting, threatening, and even plain boring.

_I am a man of war playing during peace time_, "brother?" he hears Börte call him smiling as she hands Gimilzôr to a nurse "you have a far away look on you, is there something wrong?" she asks as Jamukha's attention then turns to the great hall where Palantir plots with a Pentoshi, and a Northman.

"I find it grating that our king plots not with his family but with people that can turn on him without a moment's notice" _when we should be the ones plotting with him_, his sister smiles as she seats in front of him.

"Oh brother Palantir is many things but a fool is not one of them" she said as her attention then turns to the table that separates them, her hands tracing the black and white square patterns "didn't you know brother that me and Palantir always play _cyvasse _on this table?" Börte asks him as she began to flip open a compartment underneath the table where pieces of _cyvasse _lay and she began to set up the table positioning her archers at the front, her horsemen at the flanks with infantry and artillery at the reserves surrounding her king, a classic tactic that has ever been practice by them.

"Let us play brother" Börte says as Jamukha did so not wanting to disobey his sister and queen.

_Cyvasse _is a simple game, or so his sister insists as they play the game the pieces often constituted in _capturing _or _killing _a piece of the opposite side, his sister made the first move by having her horsemen confront his infantry at the wings, while it was frighteningly familiar to a battlefield for Jamukha he finds out that whatever tactics he used then couldn't be used on a board that was obvious as his center was quickly wiped out by Börte's archers and infantry and his king was finally surrounded.

"That's impossible! In a real battle I could have beaten you!" he complains as his sister just laughs at him.

"In a real battle yes, but this is a _cyvasse _board, everything is possible the same way that the outcome of a battle can change" Börte said as her face then turns serious as they once more set up their army for another round "I understand Palantir's eyes are not turning towards his own family but know that there is always a method in everyone's madness" she said as she then gave the first move to him.

Jamukha advanced his infantry at the center while decimated it was his right flank that carried the day pushing towards the spread out cavalry of his sister before finally surrounding her king at the sixth turn "my oh my you learn quickly" his sister commended smiling as the doors of the great hall were opened revealing Palantir who was then surprised by Gimilzôr.

"Father!" the boy charges in embracing the man who smiled down on his son.

"Gimilzôr you young rascal!" Palantir exclaims as he quickly lifted the boy up and then approaches them with a smile on his face, greeting Börte with a kiss and to Jamukha a nod "brother"

"Your grace" Jamukha quickly stood and bowed slightly which Palantir waved off in good nature.

"Enough of that 'your grace' Jamukha we are family" _and yet you let the only person that can guard you away from your person_, Jamukha thought as Palantir's gaze then turns to the _cyvasse _game table.

"Who won?" Palantir simply asked as his wife smiled.

"Jamukha learns quickly my lord husband" Börte simply answered as they quickly rearrange the pieces on the board "unlike you who defeated me after three tries" Palantir bark out a laugh as he sets down Gimilzôr who then looked at the board with interest.

"You want to watch your mother get defeated by your uncle?" Palantir asked his son who shook his head instead siding with his mother.

"I think father, mother will win!" Gimilzôr said enthusiastically resulting in the boy's mother laughing at the king's expense, the next battle was a costly victory for Jamukha's sister who played a gambit with her king letting it capture the enemy king with what remain of her infantry and cavalry.

"Death at five" Börte declared with cheers from her son, Jamukha stood declaring the game to be over as Gimilzôr then took his place asking his mother to teach him the _cyvasse_, Palantir gestured for the new Variag chieftain to walk with him around the place.

"As much as a garden is beautiful to look at, one should always look for weeds and bugs that can stunt the growth of your plants" Palantir said as he looks at Jamukha, "is there something wrong brother?" he asks as he looks straight to his eyes, piercing grey eyes that reminded Jamukha of the man's predecessor, and from the man's upright stature and manner.

"Well my kin and king there is something that bothers me..." Jamukha began as he hesitated but then reassured himself that he was with family "brother I am rather disturbed by the company you yourself keep, they are not of our people capable as they are they still have their own agendas in mind not unlike those of your people" he said as his king only sighs tiredly.

"I shouldn't have let you keep watch of the Kindred faction" Palantir states as he nods understandingly "Arnubên and Illynoh have their own uses Jamukha, it is only right that I keep company with them on matters that are important to the kingdom not just warfare"

"And Arnubên is almost kin to us, my father took him under his wing don't you remember?" _I do remember_, Jamukha thought as Palantir asked for a servant to bring them water "I cannot put everything on one basket Jamukha, it is not my intent to keep family out of court but rather it is to make sure that I am not playing favorites" his brother-in-law then pulled out a writ. "I will charge you with keeping watch to Illynoh while he makes a survey and census around the kingdom, look into every single men he puts under his employ, I trust you with this not because you are my brother-in-law but because as part of the Kindred faction you can put to a check to both my faction and the Barim faction" he hands the writ to Jamukha who bows to him deeply.

"I will not fail my kin and king" Palantir nods as he sends him away, Jamukha leaves the palace where he was being waited by the party of Illynoh.

"A good afternoon Master Jamukha" Illynoh greets the Variag who decides to deign the man his attention, _because the king wishes me to work with them_.

"A good afternoon it is Master Illynoh" the king's treasurer smiles brightly at him as he produces a writ that was given the king's seal, a royal warrant that allows them to conduct a survey in the kingdom starting with the capitol of all places.

* * *

_**Mithkadar**_

It has been a week now after the death of his father the king, Ar-Gimilthôn, now laid to rest to a mausoleum that also acts as a grand library for all scholars and wise men to learn of the light of Numenor, _an island we will never know_, Bêlzagar thought as he stretched himself up and then did the usual ablutions as expected of a royalty "Instructor Magor is waiting for you at the barracks ring your grace" a servant said bowing as the princeling simply nods and waves his hand dismissively, after taking a light breakfast Bêlzagar proceeded towards the barracks finding his instructor who looks at him and then nods.

"Not on your usual silks good...you are thinking like a ranger" the man simply said as Bêlzagar made his way towards the weak-bow which was a training bow lighter and shorter of range than the steel bow they were famous for.

"Nay we are not using that your grace" Magor said as he presented a recurve bow, "this is a far more fitting bow for growing princelings don't you think?" Bêlzagar had to snort at that as he let Magor explain to him anything about the recurve bow and as to why it was unlike the weak-bow.

Bêlzagar watched as his instructor showed him how to properly use a bow, a recurve one that is, the now eighteen year old boy had wanted to join the rangers a request his brother had granted for him despite his mother's disapproval, _brother also wanted to become a ranger but because he is the king he cannot do so_, Bêlzagar remembers that talk he has with family then when last year he had told in front of dinner of his desire to join Berúthiel's rangers he still remembers the support his father and brother gave him, a sigh and words of support from his twin, Azrâindil, while his mother almost fainted but had no choice in the matter.

_It is my choice still_, he remembers insisting on his mother but still he knows that she means well being a mother after all "brother!" came the voice of his king and kin, Ar-Palantir who was being followed by his guards although they were in a respectful distance.

"Your grace..." bowed his instructor, Magor, as Palantir approaches them.

"How goes my brother's training?" Ar-Palantir asked as Bêlzagar showed the recurve bow that he was about to use.

"We had moved from weak-bows brother, we are now going to use heavy recurve bows, Magor here has told me that it wont be long until I am to be allowed how to use the steel bows used by the rangers" Ar-Palantir looks amused by his words as he looks at Magor.

"He is a fast learner your grace" his instructor said as Bêlzagar's brother let them continue on with their training, "come on greenboy, just because you are of royal blood doesn't mean you get a pass!" Magor barks as he quickly set a minute glass "the same as last time, shoot as many arrows as you can until the minute glass has stopped dripping ready..." Bêlzagar began to ready himself arrow nocked and his breathing steady.

"shoot!"

The recurve bow was far more heavier than the weak-bow, ranger trainee could only shoot five arrows in succession when his instructor had finally called the exercise to a stop "five arrows in a full-minute" Magor said as Bêlzagar took a deep breath clearly tired from the exertion.

"Not bad brother you did well" Palantir said as Bêlzagar looks at him, "I shot eight arrows with a recurve bow in my first time by the way, in a moving ship no less" he brags in good humor while Bêlzagar's stare turn into a glare as a youth began to approach them with tired eyes and a frantic look.

"Your grace, I am the watcher of the north walls the beacons have been lit!"

_War _Bêlzagar watched as Palantir's face turn grim "Braavos is attacking again, the audacity of those fools" he said to himself as he looks at the youth "you have earned your rest now I will take it from here"

"Balkazîr" a guard approaches "call all of the council to my halls" he said as he turns to him "I apologize Bêlzagar" he said as Bêlzagar only shook his head.

"It is fine brother" he said but before Ar-Palantir could leave "can I join you in battle against the Braavosi scum though?" he asks and the question almost made his king and kin stumble at the query that was given to him.

"Mother will have a fright brother and someone has to watch the city while I do battle" _Azrâindil could watch over the city _Bêlzagar thought to himself but decided to nod in understanding and also obedience.

* * *

_**Braavosi-****Adûnâim borders**_

First Sword Irridos Brenar waited for orders from the Sealord, the waiting was getting tense for him _if we wait more than one week an enemy army could already be marching on our heads_, he thought as he remembers that last week the Ar-Adûnâim had began to light their beacons signalling to the capitol that an army is in their borders, _we once overtook those beacons before they were lit_, Irridos thought as he saw a group from Braavos direction coming towards him.

_Finally _"my First Sword!" came the voice of his master, Sealord Tychio Hesteroh, "the council had given us consent we make war!" with that said their army began to cross their shared borders with the Adûnâim securing for themselves an abandoned farmstead, _evacuated by the looks of it_, Irridos observes as he saw no consumable supplies available for fodder to their army.

Ever since the conquest of Pentos by the Numenoreans, Braavos have been ever so threatened by the forts that they have built on their borders, not discounting the fact that their new neighbors has been frighteningly expansionist and had forced the Dothraki to foray on Braavos' borders, despite the unfair deals they had made with the Ar-Adûnâim those foreign men from Sothoryos had all but firmly dug their heels and is set to expand and ascend, _something that Braavos will not allow_, Irridos thought as he saw their first of the eight forts to besiege in the hills of Andalos, it seems the plan has always been to march straight towards the Numenorean capital but with a different twist as to ensure that there will be no repeat of the last war Braavos had made sure that they will capture the garrisoned forts and the surrounding villages and towns of the hills of Andalos before they march to the enemy capital to ensure a stable supply line on their march south.

"Use the hovels around here and make them into trebuchets" Sealord Tychio orders the engineers who began to cut down the houses for lumbers of their siege engines it was night when the trebuchets began to lob stones and burning wood at the stone and mud fort before them.

"We should be overwhelming the fort with our numbers" Irridos states as he and the Sealord watched the progress of the siege, "we still had seven forts to besiege before we had to march to their capital"

"But if we lose a lot of men by storming the fort we cannot march to Mithkadar with a rabble" Sealord Tychio said as he went back to his tent while the First Sword watched the siege proceed. It was on the third day when the Sealord was pressured by thirteen representative members of the council of Braavos to finally attack the fort, it was a bloodbath as the defenders numbering only to four hundred were overwhelmed by their twenty thousand, _new bodies to offer to the faceless god_.

"You will not pass!" came the cry of one of the dying men in accented Valyrian the man said as he charged towards Irridos direction only to be cut down smoothly by the First Sword, his first kill as he had finally scaled the walls the battle was fierce but short, the families of the defenders had already killed themselves as was evident when they secured the storerooms three women had smothered their babes while their husbands had stabbed them taking them to a deadly embrace.

Irridos watched as the tattered banner of the Adûnâim was cut down and replaced by a Braavosi one, _what are the Numenoreans planning? _He questions no one but himself as the fort was quickly burned and their forces march towards the next one not knowing what is in store for them.

* * *

**Author's note: I was having a busy time, but yeah sorry for the late update and also I'm having a conflict concerning how this story should go, whether should I focus more to Essos since I plan on having Orcs and Dothraki under a Nazgul or even a number of them or should I go with the interregnum after Maelys' final Blackfyre rebellion (the Ninepenny war) which is the set up for Aerys II Targaryen mad reign and the coming Robert's Rebellion which would result in a young Daenerys and Viserys becoming guests of the Numenoreans and then Daenerys finally marrying one of Palantir's great grand kid which would be poisoned because Robert and then after Robert's death and the resulting anarchy that came in Westeros Daenerys and her son would come along with Numenorean forces (like Empress Matilda and Henry Plantagenet ala British Anarchy) and claim the throne and fight both west and east against the Long Night kind of thing so yeah that is quiet a conflict for me.**

**So what do you think I should let the story go?**

**Criticisms and Praises are appreciated!**

**Miko 56**


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